THE  SECRET  HOUSE 


THE   SECRET 
HOUSE 

By  EDGAR  WALLACE 


A.  L.  BURT    COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 


Printed  -in  U.  S.   A. 


Copyright,  1919 
BY  SMALL,  MAYNARD  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


Second  Printing,  August,  1919 


Stack 
Annex 


Asse- 
rt 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

CHAPTER  i 

A  MAN  stood  irresolutely  before  the  imposing 
portals  of  Cainbury  House,  a  large  office 
building  let  out  to  numerous  small  tenants,  and 
harbouring,  as  the  indicator  on  the  tiled  wall  of  the 
vestibule  testified,  some  thirty  different  professions. 
The  man  was  evidently  poor,  for  his  clothes  were 
shabby  and  his  boots  were  down  at  heel.  He  was 
as  evidently  a  foreigner.  His  clean-shaven  eagle 
face  was  sallow,  his  eyes  were  dark,  his  eyebrows 
black  and  straight. 

He  passed  up  the  few  steps  into  the  hall  and  stood 
thoughtfully  before  the  indicator.  Presently  he 
found  what  he  wanted.  At  the  very  top  of  the 
list  and  amongst  the  crowded  denizens  of  the  fifth 
floor  was  a  slip  inscribed: 

"  THE  GOSSIP'S  CORNER  " 

He  took  from  his  waistcoat  pocket  a  newspaper 
cutting  and  compared  the  two  then  stepped  briskly, 

5 


6  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

almost  jauntily,  into  the  hall,  as  though  all  his 
doubts  and  uncertainties  had  vanished,  and  waited 
for  the  elevator.  His  coat  was  buttoned  tightly, 
his  collar  was  frayed,  his  shirt  had  seen  the  greater 
part  of  a  week's  service,  the  Derby  hat  on  his  head 
had  undergone  extensive  renovations,  and  a  close 
observer  would  have  noticed  that  his  gloves  were 
odd  ones. 

He  walked  into  the  lift  and  said,  "  Fifth  floor," 
with  a  slight  foreign  accent. 

He  was  whirled  up,  the  lift  doors  clanged  open 
and  the  grimy  finger  of  the  elevator  boy  indicated 
the  office.  Again  the  man  hesitated,  examining  the 
door  carefully.  The  upper  half  was  of  toughened 
glass  and  bore  the  simple  inscription : 

"  THE  GOSSIP'S  CORNER. 
KNOCK." 

Obediently  the  stranger  knocked  and  the  door 
opened  through  an  invisible  agent,  much  to  the 
man's  surprise,  though  there  was  nothing  more 
magical  about  the  phenomenon  than  there  is  about 
any  electrically  controlled  office  door. 

He  found  himself  in  a  room  sparsely  furnished 
with  a  table,  a  chair  and  a  few  copies  of  papers. 
An  old  school  map  of  England  hung  on  one  wall 
and  a  Landseer  engraving  on  the  other.  At  the 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  7 

farthermost  end  of  the  room  was  another  door,  and 
to  this  he  gravitated  and  again,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  he  knocked. 

"  Come  in,"  said  a  voice. 

He  entered  cautiously. 

The  room  was  larger  and  was  comfortably  fur- 
nished. There  were  shaded  electric  lamps  on  either 
side  of  the  big  carved  oak  writing-table.  One  of 
the  walls  was  covered  with  books,  and  the  litter  of 
proofs  upon  the  table  suggested  that  this  was  the 
sanctorum. 

But  the  most  remarkable  feature  of  the  room  was 
the  man  who  sat  at  the  desk.  He  was  a  man  solidly 
built  and,  by  his  voice,  of  middle  age.  His  face 
the  new-comer  could  not  see  and  for  excellent 
reason.  It  was  hidden  behind  a  veil  of  fine  silk 
net  which  had  been  adjusted  over  the  head  like  a 
loose  bag  and  tightened  under  the  chin. 

The  man  at  the  table  chuckled  when  he  saw  the 
other's  surprise. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said — he  spoke  in  French — "  and 
don't,  I  beg  of  you,  be  alarmed." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  new-comer  easily,  "  be 
assured  that  I  am  not  alarmed.  In  this  world 
nothing  has  ever  alarmed  me  except  my  own  dis- 
tressing poverty  and  the  prospect  of  dying  poor." 

The  veiled  figure  said  nothing  for  a  while. 


8  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  You  have  come  in  answer  to  my  advertisement," 
he  said  after  a  long  pause. 

The  other  bowed. 

"  You  require  an  assistant,  Monsieur,"  said  the 
new-comer,  "  discreet,  with  a  knowledge  of  foreign 
languages  and  poor.  I  fulfill  all  those  require- 
ments," he  went  on  calmly ;  "had  you  also  added,  of 
an  adventurous  disposition,  with  few  if  any  scruples, 
it  would  have  been  equally  descriptive." 

The  stranger  felt  that  the  man  at  the  desk  was 
looking  at  him,  though  he  could  not  see  his  eyes. 
It  must  have  been  a  long  and  careful  scrutiny,  for 
presently  the  advertiser  said  gruffly: 

"  I  think  you'll  do." 

"  Exactly,"  said  the  new-comer  with  cool  assur- 
ance ;  "  and  now  it  is  for  you,  dear  Monsieur,  to 
satisfy  me  that  you  also  will  do.  You  will  have 
observed  that  there  are  two  parties  to  every  bar- 
gain. First  of  all,  my  duties?  " 

The  man  in  the  chair  leant  back  and  thrust  his 
hands  into  his  pockets. 

"  I  am  the  editor  of  a  little  paper  which  circulates 
exclusively  amongst  the  servants  of  the  upper 
classes,"  he  said.  "  I  receive  from  time  to  time 
interesting  communications  concerning  the  aris- 
tocracy and  gentry  of  this  country,  written  by 
hysterical  French  maids  and  revengeful  Italian 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  9 

valets.  I  am  not  a  good  linguist,  and  I  feel  that 
there  is  much  in  these  epistles  which  I  miss  and 
which  I  should  not  miss." 

The  new-comer  nodded. 

"  I  therefore  want  somebody  of  discretion  who 
will  deal  with  my  foreign  correspondence,  make  a 
fair  copy  in  English  and  summarize  the  complaints 
which  these  good  people  make.  You  quite  under- 
stand," he  said  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "  that 
mankind  is  not  perfect,  less  perfect  is  womankind, 
and  least  perfect  is  that  section  of  mankind  which 
employs  servants.  They  usually  have  stories  to 
tell  not  greatly  to  their  masters'  credit,  not  nice 
stories,  you  understand,  my  dear  friend.  By  the 
way,  what  is  your  name  ?  " 

The  stranger  hesitated. 

"  Poltavo,"  he  said  after  a  pause. 

"  Italian  or  Pole  ?  "  asked  the  other. 

"  Pole,"  replied  Poltavo  readily. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,"  the  editor  went  on, 
"  we  on  this  paper  are  very  anxious  to  secure  news 
of  society  doings.  If  they  are  printable,  we  print 
them;  if  they  are  not  printable" — he  paused — 
"  we  do  not  print  them.  But,"  he  raised  a  warning 
forefinger,  "  the  fact  that  particulars  of  disgrace- 
ful happenings  are  not  fit  for  publication  must  not 
induce  you  to  cast  such  stories  into  the  waste- 


io  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

paper  basket.  We  keep  a  record  of  such  matters 
for  our  own  private  amusement."  He  said  this 
latter  airily,  but  Poltavo  was  not  deceived. 

Again  there  was  a  long  silence  whilst  the  man 
at  the  table  ruminated. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  On  the  fourth  floor  of  a  small  house  in  Blooms- 
bury,"  replied  Poltavo. 

The  veiled  figure  nodded. 

"  When  did  you  come  to  this  country  ?  " 

"  Six  months  ago." 

"Why?" 

Poltavo  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Why  ?  "  insisted  the  man  at  the  table. 

"  A  slight  matter  of  disagreement  between  myself 
and  the  admirable  chief  of  police  of  Sans  Sebastian," 
he  said  as  airily  as  the  other. 

Again  the  figure  nodded. 

"If  you  had  told  me  anything  else,  I  should 
not  have  engaged  you,"  he  said. 

"Why?  "  asked  Poltavo  in  surprise. 

"  Because  you  are  speaking  the  truth,"  said 
the  other  coolly.  "  Your  matter  of  disagreement 
with  the  police  in  Sans  Sebastian  was  over  the 
missing  of  some  money  in  the  hotel  where  you  were 
staying.  The  room  happened  to  be  next  to  yours 
and  communicating,  if  one  had  the  ingenuity  to 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  n 

pick  the  lock  of  the  door.  Also  your  inability  to 
pay  the  hotel  bill  hastened  your  departure." 

"  What  an  editor !  "  said  the  other  admiringly, 
but  without  showing  any  signs  of  perturbation  or 
embarrassment. 

"  It  is  my  business  to  know  something  about 
everybody,"  said  the  editor.  "  By  the  way,  you 
may  call  me  Mr.  Brown,  and  if  at  times  I  may  seem 
absent-minded  when  I  am  so  addressed  you  must 
excuse  me,  because  it  is  not  my  name.  Yes,  you  are 
the  kind  of  man  I  want." 

"  It  is  remarkable  that  you  should  have  found 
me,"  said  Poltavo.  "  The  cutting  " — he  indicated 
the  newspaper  clip — "  was  sent  to  me  by  an  un- 
known friend." 

"  I  was  the  unknown  friend,"  said  "  Mr.  Browft  " ; 
"  do  you  understand  the  position  ?  " 

Poltavo  nodded. 

"  I  understand  everything,"  he  said,  "  except  tin 
last  and  most  important  of  all  matters;  namely  t 
the  question  of  my  salary." 

The  man  named  a  sum — a  generous  sum  to  Pol- 
tavo, and  Mr.  Brown,  eyeing  him  keenly,  was  glad 
to  note  that  his  new  assistant  was  neither  surprised 
nor  impressed. 

"  You  will  see  very  little  of  me  at  this  office," 
the  editor  went  on.  "If  you  work  well,  and  I  can 


12  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

trust  you,  I  will  double  the  salary  I  am  giving  you ; 
if  you  fail  me,  you  will  be  sorry  for  yourself." 
He  rose. 

b 

"  That  finishes  our  interview.  You  will  come 
here  to-morrow  morning  and  let  yourself  in.  Here 
is  the  key  of  the  door  and  a  key  to  the  safe  in 
which  I  keep  all  correspondence.  You  will  find 
much  to  incriminate  society  and  precious  little  that 
will  incriminate  me.  I  expect  you  to  devote  the 
whole  of  your  attention  to  this  business,"  he  said 
slowly  and  emphatically. 

"  You  may  be  sure "  began  Poltavo. 

"  Wait,  I  have  not  finished.  By  devoting  the 
whole  of  your  attention  to  the  business,  I  mean  I 
want  you  to  have  no  spare  time  to  conduct  any 
investigations  as  to  my  identity.  By  a  method 
which  I  will  not  trouble  to  explain  to  you  I  am 
able  to  leave  this  building  without  any  person  being 
aware  of  the  fact  that  I  am  the  editor  of  this  inter- 
esting publication.  When  you  have  been  through 
your  letters  I  want  you  to  translate  those  which 
contain  the  most  important  particulars  and  for- 
ward them  by  a  messenger  who  will  call  every 
evening  at  five  o'clock.  Your  salary  will  be  paid 
regularly,  and  you  will  not  be  bothered  with  any 
editorial  duties.  And  now,  if  you  will  please  go 
into  the  outer  room  and  wait  a  few  moments,  you 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  13 

may    return    in   five   minutes    and    begin    on   this 
accumulation  of  correspondence." 

Poltavo,  with  a  little  bow,  obeyed,  and  closed 
the  door  carefully  behind  him.  He  heard  a  click, 
and  knew  that  the  same  electric  control  which  had 
opened  the  outer  door  had  now  closed  the  inner. 
At  the  end  of  five  minutes,  as  near  as  he  could  judge, 
he  tried  the  door.  It  opened  readily  and  he  stepped 
into  the  inner  office.  The  room  was  empty.  There 
was  a  door  leading  out  to  the  corridor,  but  some- 
thing told  the  new  assistant  that  this  was  not  the 
manner  of  egress  which  his  employer  had  adopted. 
He  looked  round  carefully.  There  was  no  other 
door,  but  behind  the  chair  where  the  veiled  man 
had  sat  was  a  large  cupboard.  This  he  opened 
without,  however,  discovering  any  solution  to  the 
mystery  of  Mr.  Brown's  disappearance,  for  the 
cupboard  was  filled  with  books  and  stationery. 
He  then  began  a  systematic  search  of  the  apart- 
ment. He  tried  all  the  drawers  of  the  desk  and 
found  they  were  open,  whereup6n  his  interest  in 
their  contents  evaporated,  since  he  knew  a  gentle- 
man of  Mr.  Brown's  wide  experience  was  hardly 
likely  to  leave  important  particulars  concerning 
himself  in  an  unlocked  desk.  Poltavo  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  deftly  rolling  a  cigarette,  which  he 
lit,  then  pulling  the  chair  up  to  the  desk  he  began 


14  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

to   attack    the   pile   of   letters   which   awaited   his 
attention. 

For  six  weeks  Mr.  Poltavo  had  worked  with 
painstaking  thoroughness  in  the  new  service. 
Every  Friday  morning  he  had  found  on  his  desk 
an  envelope  containing  two  bank  notes  neatly 
folded  and  addressed  to  himself.  Every  evening  at 
five  o'clock  a  hard-faced  messenger  had  called  and 
received  a  bulky  envelope  containing  Poltavo's 
translations. 

The  Pole  was  a  keen  student  of  the  little  paper, 
which  he  bought  every  week,  and  he  had  noted 
that  very  little  of  the  information  he  had  gleaned 
appeared  in  print.  Obviously  then  Gossip's  Corner 
served  Mr.  Brown  in  some  other  way  than  as  a 
vehicle  for  scandal,  and  the  veil  was  partly  lifted 
on  this  mysterious  business  on  an  afternoon  when 
there  had  come  a  sharp  tap  at  the  outer  door  of 
the  office.  Poltavo  pressed  the  button  on  the 
desk,  which  released  the  lock,  and  presently  the 
tap  was  repeated  on  the  inside  door. 

The  door  opened  and  a  girl  stood  in  the  entrance 
hesitating. 

"  Won't  you  come  in?  "  said  Poltavo,  rising. 

"Are  you  the  editor  of  this  paper?  "  asked  the 
girl,  as  she  slowly  closed  the  door  behind  her. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  15 

Poltavo  bowed.  He  was  always  ready  to  accept 
whatever  honour  chance  bestowed  upon  him.  Had 
she  asked  him  if  he  were  Mr.  Brown,  he  would  also 
have  bowed. 

"  I  had  a  letter  from  you,"  said  the  girl,  coming 
to  the  other  side  of  the  table  and  resting  her  hand 
on  its  edge  and  looking  down  at  him  a  little  scorn- 
fully, and  a  little  fearfully,  as  Poltavo  thought. 

He  bowed  again.  He  had  not  written  letters 
to  anybody  save  to  his  employer,  but  his  con- 
science was  an  elastic  one. 

"  I  write  so  many  letters,"  he  said  airily,  "  that 
I  really  forget  whether  I  have  written  to  you  or 
not.  May  I  see  the  letter  ?  " 

She  opened  her  bag,  took  out  an  envelope, 
removed  the  letter  and  passed  it  across  to  the  inter- 
ested young  man.  It  was  written  on  the  note- 
heading  of  Gossip's  Corner,  but  the  address  had 
been  scratched  out  by  a  stroke  of  the  pen.  It  ran : 

"DEAR  MADAM, — 

"  Certain  very  important  information  has  come 
into  my  possession  regarding  the  relationships  be- 
tween yourself  and  Captain  Brackly.  I  feel  sure 
you  cannot  know  that  your  name  is  being  associated 
with  that  officer.  As  the  daughter  and  heiress 
of  the  late  Sir  George  Billk,  you  may  imagine  that 


16  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

your  wealth  and  position  in  society  relieves  you 
of  criticism,  but  I  can  assure  you  that  the  stories 
which  have  been  sent  to  me  would,  were  they 
placed  in  the  hands  of  your  husband,  lead  to  the 
most  unhappy  consequences. 

"  In  order  to  prevent  this  matter  going  any 
further,  and  in  order  to  silence  the  voices  of  your 
detractors,  our  special  inquiry  department  is  will- 
ing to  undertake  the  suppression  of  these  scandal- 
mongers. It  will  cost  you  £10,000,  which  should 
be  paid  to  me  in  notes.  If  you  agree,  put  an 
advertisement  in  the  agony  column  of  the  Morning 
Mist,  and  I  will  arrange  a  meeting  where  the  money 
can  be  paid  over.  On  no  account  address  me  at 
my  office  or  endeavour  to  interview  me  there. 
"  Yours  very  truly, 

"J.  BROWN." 

Poltavo  read  the  letter  and  now  the  function  of 
Gossip's  Corner  was  very  clear.  He  refolded  the 
letter  and  handed  it  back  to  the  girl. 

"  I  may  not  be  very  clever,"  said  the  visitor, 
"  but  I  think  I  can  understand  what  blackmail  is 
when  I  see  it." 

Poltavo  was  in  a  quandary,  but  only  for  a  moment. 

"I  did  not  write  that  letter,"  he  said  suavely; 
"  it  was  written  without  my  knowledge.  When  I 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  17 

said  that  I  was  the  editor  of  this  paper,  I  meant,  of 
course,  that  I  was  the  acting  editor.  Mr.  Brown 
conducts  his  business  quite  independently  of  myself. 
I  know  all  the  circumstances,"  he  added  hastily, 
since  he  was  very  anxious  that  the  girl  should  not 
refuse  him  further  information  in  the  belief  that 
he  was  an  inconsiderable  quantity,  "  and  I  sympa- 
thize with  you  most  sincerely." 

A  little  smile  curled  the  lips  of  the  visitor. 

Poltavo  was  ever  a  judge  of  men  and  women, 
and  he  knew  that  this  was  no  yielding,  timid  crea- 
ture to  be  terrified  by  the  fear  of  exposure. 

"  The  matter  can  be  left  in  the  hands  of  Captain 
Brackly  and  my  husband  to  settle,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  going  to  take  the  letter  to  my  solicitors.  I 
shall  also  show  it  to  the  two  men  most  affected." 

Now  the  letter  had  been  written  four  days  earlier, 
as  Poltavo  had  seen,  and  he  argued  that  if  it  had 
not  been  revealed  to  these  "  two  men  most  affected  " 
in  the  first  heat  of  the  lady's  anger  and  indignation, 
it  would  never  be  shown  at  all. 

"  I  think  you  are  very  wise,"  he  said  suavely. 
"  After  all,  what  is  a  little  unpleasantness  of  that 
character?  Who  cares  about  the  publication  of  a 
few  letters?" 

"  Has  he  got  letters  ?  "  asked  the  girl  quickly, 
with  a  change  of  tone. 


i8  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Poltavo  bowed  again. 

"Will  they  be  returned?"  she  asked. 

Poltavo  nodded,  and  the  girl  bit  her  lips  thought- 
fully. 

"  I  see,"  she  said. 

She  looked  at  the  letter  again  and  without  another 
word  went  out. 

Poltavo  accompanied  her  to  the  outer  door. 

"  It  is  the  prettiest  kind  of  blackmail,"  she  said 
at  parting,  and  she  spoke  without  heat.  "  I  have 
only  now  to  consider  which  will  pay  me  best." 

The  Pole  closed  the  door  behind  her  and  walked 
back  to  his  inner  office,  opened  the  door  and  stood 
aghast,  for  sitting  in  the  chair  which  he  had  so 
recently  vacated  was  the  veiled  man. 

He  was  chuckling,  partly  at  Poltavo's  surprise, 
partly  at  some  amusing  thought. 

"  Well  done,  Poltavo,"  he  said ;  "  excellently 
fenced." 

"  Did  you  hear  ?  "  asked  the  Pole,  surprised  in 
spite  of  himself. 

"  Every  word,"  said  the  other.  "  Well,  what 
do  you  think  of  it?  " 

Poltavo  pulled  a  chair  from  the  wall  and  sat 
down  facing  his  chief. 

"  I  think  it  is  very  clever,"  he  said  admiringly, 
"  but  I  also  think  I  am  not  getting  sufficient  salary." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  19 

The  veiled  man  nodded. 

"  I  think  you  are  right,"  he  agreed,  "  and  I  will 
see  that  it  is  increased.  What  a  fool  the  woman  was 
to  come  here !  " 

"  Either  a  fool  or  a  bad  actress,"  said  Poltavo. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  other  quickly. 

Poltavo  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  To  my  mind,"  he  said  after  a  moment's  thought, 
"  there  is  no  doubt  that  I  have  witnessed  a  very 
clever  comedy.  An  effective  one,  I  grant,  because 
it  has  accomplished  all  that  was  intended." 

"And  what  was  intended?"  asked  Mr.  Brown 
curiously. 

"  It  was  intended  by  you  and  carried  out  by 
you  in  order  to  convey  to  me  the  exact  character 
of  your  business,"  said  Poltavo.  "  I  judged  that 
fact  from  the  following  evidence."  He  ticked  off 
the  points  one  by  one  on  his  long  white  ringers. 
"  The  lady's  name  was,  according  to  the  envelope, 
let  us  say,  Lady  Cruxbury;  but  the  lady's  real 
name,  according  to  some  silver  initials  on  her  bag, 
began  with  '  G.'  Those  initials  I  also  noted  on 
the  little  handkerchief  she  took  from  her  bag. 
Therefore  she  was  not  the  person  to  whom  the  letter 
was  addressed,  or  if  she  was,  the  letter  was  a  blind. 
In  such  an  important  matter  Lady  Cruxbury  would 
come  herself.  My  own  view  is  that  there  is  no 


20  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Lady  Cruxbury,  that  the  whole  letter  was  con- 
cocted and  was  delivered  to  me  whilst  you  were 
watching  me  from  some  hiding  place  in  order  to 
test  myx  discretion,  and,  as  I  say,  to  make  me  wise 
in  the  ways  of  your  admirable  journal." 

Mr.  Brown  laughed  long  and  softly. 

"  You  are  a  clever  fellow,  Poltavo,"  he  said  ad- 
miringly, "  and  you  certainly  deserve  your  rise  of 
salary.  Now  I  am  going  to  be  frank  with  you. 
I  admit  that  the  whole  thing  was  a  blind.  You 
now  know  my  business,  and  you  now  know 
my  raison  d'etre,  so  to  speak.  Are  you  willing  to 
continue  ?  " 

"  At  a  price,"  said  the  other. 

"  Name  it,"  said  the  veiled  man  quietly. 

"  I  am  a  poor  adventurer,"  began  Poltavo ;  "  my 
life " 

"  Cut  all  that  stuff  out,"  said  Mr.  Brown  roughly, 
"  I  am  not  going  to  give  you  a  fortune.  I  am 
going  to  give  you  the  necessities  of  life  and  a  little 
comfort." 

Poltavo  walked  to  the  window  and  thrusting 
his  hands  deep  into  his  trouser  pockets  stared  out. 
Presently  he  turned.  "  The  necessities  of  life  to 
me,"  he  said,  "  are  represented  by  a  flat  in  St. 
James's  Street,  a  car,  a  box  at  the  Opera 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  21 

"  You  will  get  none  of  these,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Brown.  "  Be  reasonable." 

Poltavo  smiled. 

"  I  am  worth  a  fortune  to  you,"  he  said,  "  because 
I  have  imagination.  Here,  for  example."  He 
picked  out  a  letter  from  a  heap  on  the  desk  and 
opened  it.  The  caligraphy  was  typically  Latin 
and  the  handwriting  was  vile.  "  Here  is  a  letter 
from  an  Italian,"  he  said,  "  which  to  the  gross 
mind  may  perhaps  represent  wearisome  business 
details.  To  a  mind  of  my  calibre,  it  is  clothed  in 
rich  possibilities."  He  leaned  across  the  table; 
his  eyes  lighted  up  with  enthusiasm.  "  There  may 
be  an  enormous  fortune  in  this,"  and  he  tapped 
the  letter  slowly.  "  Here  is  a  man  who  desires 
the  great  English  newspaper,  of  which  he  has  heard 
(though  Heaven  only  knows  how  he  can  have  heard 
it),  to  discover  the  whereabouts  and  the  identity 
of  a  certain  M.  Fallock." 

The  veiled  man  started. 

"  Fallock,"  he  repeated. 

Poltavo  nodded. 

"  Our  friend  Fallock  has  built  a  house  '  of  great 
wonder/  to  quote  the  letter  of  our  correspondent. 
In  this  house  are  buried  millions  of  lira — doesn't 
that  fire  your  imagination,  dear  colleague?  " 

"  Built  a  house,   did  he  ?  "   repeated  the   other. 


22  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Our  friends  tell  me,"  Poltavo  went  on, — "  did 
I  tell  you  it  was  written  on  behalf  of  two  men? — 
that  they  have  a  clue  and  in  fact  that  they  know 
Mr.  Fallock's  address,  and  they  are  sure  he  is  en- 
gaged in  a  nefarious  business,  but  they  require  con- 
firmation of  their  knowledge." 

The  man  at  the  table  was  silent. 

His  fingers  drummed  nervously  on  the  blotting 
pad  and  his  head  was  sunk  forward  as  a  man  weigh- 
ing a  difficult  problem. 

"  All  child's  talk,"  he  said  roughly,  "  these  buried 
treasures! — I  have  heard  of  them  before.  They 
are  just  two  imaginative  foreigners.  I  suppose  they 
want  you  to  advance  their  fare  ?  " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  they  do  ask,"  said  Pol- 
tavo. 

The  man  at  the  desk  laughed  uneasily  behind 
his  veil  and  rose. 

"  It's  the  Spanish  prison  trick,"  he  said ;  "  surely 
you  are  not  deceived  by  that  sort  of  stuff?" 

Poltavo  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Speaking  as  one  who  has  also  languished  in  a 
Spanish  prison,"  he  smiled,  "  and  who  has  also 
sent  out  invitations  to  the  generous  people  of 
England  to  release  him  from  his  sad  position — 
a  release  which  could  only  be  made  by  generous 
payments — I  thoroughly  understand  the  delicate 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  23 

workings  of  that  particular  fraud;  but  we  robbers 
of  Spain,  dear  colleague,  do  not  write  in  our  native 
language,  we  write  in  good,  or  bad,  English.  We 
write  not  in  vilely  spelt  Italian  because  we  know  that 
the  recipient  of  our  letter  will  not  take  the  trouble 
to  get  it  translated.  No,  this  is  no  Spanish  prison 
trick.  This  is  genuine." 

"May  I  see  the  letter?" 

Poltavo  handed  it  across  the  table,  and  the  man 
turning  his  back  for  a  moment  upon  his  assistant 
lifted  his  veil  and  read.  He  folded  the  letter  and 
put  it  in  his  pocket. 

"  I  will  think  about  it,"  he  said  gruffly. 

"  Another  privilege  I  would  crave  from  you  in 
addition  to  the  purely  nominal  privilege  of  receiving 
more  salary,"  said  Poltavo. 

"What  is  it?" 

The  Pole  spread  out  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of 
self-depreciation. 

"  It  is  weak  of  me,  I  admit,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
am  anxious — foolishly  anxious — to  return  to  the 
society  of  well-clothed  men  and  pretty  women.  I 
pine  for  social  life.  It  is  a  weakness  of  mine," 
he  added  apologetically.  "  I  want  to  meet  stock- 
brokers, financiers,  politicians  and  other  chevaliers 
d'industrie  on  equal  terms,  to  wear  the  grande 
habit,  to  listen  to  soft  music,  to  drink  good  wine." 


24  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  the  other  suspiciously.  "  What 
am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  Introduce  me  to  society,"  said  Poltavo  sweetly — 
"  most  particularly  do  I  desire  to  meet  that  merchant 
prince  of  whose  operations  I  read  in  the  newspapers, 
Mr.  how-do-you-call-him  ? — Farrington." 

The  veiled  man  sat  in  silence  for  a  good  minute, 
and  then  he  rose,  opened  the  cupboard  and  put  in 
his  hand.  There  was  a  click  and  the  cupboard 
with  its  interior  swung  back,  revealing  another  room 
which  was  in  point  of  fact  an  adjoining  suite  of 
offices,  also  rented  by  Mr.  Brown.  He  stood  silently 
in  the  opening,  his  chin  on  his  breast,  his  hands 
behind  him,  then: 

"  You  are  very  clever,  Poltavo,"  he  said,  and 
passed  through  and  the  cupboard  swung  back  in 
its  place. 


CHAPTER  II 

A1 


"   A   SSASSIN!" 

This  was  the  cry  which  rang  out  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night,  and  aroused  the  interest  of 
one  inhabitant  of  Brakely  Square  who  was  awake. 
Mr.  Gregory  Farrington,  a  victim  of  insomnia, 
heard  the  sound,  and  put  down  the  book  he  was 
reading,  with  a  frown.  He  rose  from  his  easy 
chair,  pulled  his  velvet  dressing  gown  lightly  round 
his  rotund  form  and  shuffled  to  the  window.  His 
blinds  were  lowered,  but  these  were  of  the  ordinary 
type,  and  he  stuck  two  fingers  between  two  of  the 
laths. 

There  was  a  moist  film  on  the  window  through 
which  the  street  lamps  showed  blurred  and  indis- 
tinct, and  he  rubbed  the  pane  clear  with  the  tips 
of  his  fingers  (he  described  every  action  to  T.  B. 
Smith  afterwards). 

Two  men  stood  outside  the  house.  They  occupied 
the  centre  of  the  deserted  pavement,  and  they  were 

25 


26  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

talking  excitedly.  Through  the  closed  window 
Mr.  Farrington  could  hear  the  staccato  rattle  of 
their  voices,  and  by  the  gesticulations,  familiar 
to  one  who  had  lived  for  many  years  in  a  Latin 
country,  he  gathered  that  they  were  of  that  breed. 

He  saw  one  raise  his  hand  to  strike  the  other  and 
caught  the  flash  of  a  pistol-barrel  excitedly 
flourished. 

"  Humph !  "  said  Mr.  Farrington. 

He  was  alone  in  his  beautiful  house  in  Brakely 
Square.  His  butler,  the  cook,  and  one  sewing 
maid  and  the  chauffeur  were  attending  the  servants' 
ball  which  the  Manley-Potters  were  giving.  Louder 
grew  the  voices  on  the  pavement. 

"  Thief !  "  shrilled  a  voice  in  French,  "  Am  I  to  be 
robbed  of "  and  the  rest  was  indistinguishable. 

There  was  a  policeman  on  point  duty  at  the  other 
side  of  the  square.  Mr.  Farrington's  fingers  rubbed 
the  glass  with  greater  energy,  and  his  anxious  eyes 
looked  left  and  right  for  the  custodian  of  the  law. 

He  crept  down  the  stairs,  opened  the  metal  flap 
of  the  letter-box  and  listened.  It  was  not  difficult 
to  hear  all  they  said,  though  they  had  dropped 
their  voices,  for  they  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 

"  What  is  the  use  ?  "  said  one  in  French.  "  There 
is  a  reward  large  enough  for  two — but  for  him — 
my  faith!  there  is  money  to  be  made,  sufficient  for 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  27 

twenty.  It  is  unfortunate  that  we  should  meet  on 
similar  errands,  but  I  swear  to  you  I  did  not  desire 
to  betray  you "  The  voice  sank. 

Mr.  Farrington  chewed  the  butt  of  his  cigar  in  the 
darkness  of  the  hall  and  pieced  together  the  jigsaw 
puzzle  of  this  disjointed  conversation.  These  men 
must  be  associates  of  Montague — Montague  Fallock, 
who  else  ? 

Montague  Fallock,  the  blackmailer  for  whom  the 
police  of  Europe  were  searching,  and  individually 
and  separately  they  had  arranged  to  blackmail  him 
— or  betray  him. 

The  fact  that  T.  B.  Smith  also  had  a  house  in 
Brakely  Square,  and  that  T.  B.  Smith  was  an 
Assistant  Commissioner  of  the  police,  and  most 
anxious  to  meet  Montague  Fallock  in  the  flesh, 
might  supply  reason  enough  to  the  logical  Mr. 
Farrington  for  this  conversation  outside  his  re- 
spectable door. 

"  Yes,  I  tell  you/'  said  the  second  man,  angrily, 
"  that  I  have  arranged  to  see  M'sieur — you  must 
trust  me " 

"  We  go  together,"  said  the  other,  definitely,  "  I 
trust  no  man,  least  of  all  a  confounded  Neapoli- 
tan  " 

Constable   Habit  had   not  heard   the   sound   of 


28  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

quarrelling  voices,  as  far  as  could  be  gathered  from 
subsequent  inquiry.  His  statement,  now  in  the 
possession  of  T.  B.  Smith,  distinctly  says,  "  I  heard 
nothing  unusual." 

But  suddenly  two  shots  rang  out. 

"  Clack — clack !  "  they  went,  the  unmistakable 
sound  of  an  automatic  pistol  or  pistols,  then  a 
police  whistle  shrieked,  and  P.  C.  Habit  broke  into 
a  run  in  the  direction  of  the  sound,  blowing  his 
own  whistle  as  he  ran. 

He  arrived  to  find  three  men,  two  undoubtedly 
dead  on  the  ground,  and  the  third,  Mr.  Farrington's 
unpicturesque  figure,  standing  shivering  in  the  door- 
way of  his  house,  a  police  whistle  at  his  lips,  and 
his  grey  velvet  dressing-gown  flapping  in  a  chill 
eastern  wind. 

Ten  minutes  later  T.  B.  Smith  arrived  on  the 
scene  from  his  house,  to  find  a  crowd  of  respectable 
size,  half  the  bedroom  windows  of  Brakely  Square 
occupied  by  the  morbid  and  the  curious,  and  the 
police  ambulance  already  on  the  spot. 

"  Dead,  sir,"  reported  the  constable. 

T.  B.  looked  at  the  men  on  the  ground.  They 
were  obviously  foreigners.  One  was  well,  almost 
richly  dressed;  the  other  wore  the  shabby  evening 
dress  of  a  waiter,  under  the  long  ulster  which 
covered  him  from  neck  to  foot. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  29 

The  men  lay  almost  head  to  head.  One  flat  on 
his  face  (he  had  been  in  this  position  when  the 
constable  found  him,  and  had  been  restored  to 
that  position  when  the  methodical  P.  C.  Habit  found 
that  he  was  beyond  human  assistance)  and  the  other 
huddled  on  his  side. 

The  police  kept  the  crowd  at  a  distance  whilst 
the  head  of  the  secret  police  (T.  B.  Smith's  special 
department  merited  that  description)  made  a 
careful  examination.  He  found  a  pistol  on  the 
ground,  and  another  under  the  figure  of  the  huddled 
man,  then  as  the  police  ambulance  was  backed  to 
the  pavement,  he  interviewed  the  shivering  Mr. 
Farrington. 

"  If  you  will  come  upstairs,"  said  that  chilled 
millionaire,  "  I  will  tell  you  all  I  know." 

T.  B.  sniffed  the  hall  as  he  entered,  but  said 
nothing.  He  had  his  olfactory  sense  developed  to 
an  abnormal  degree,  but  he  was  a  tactful  and  a 
silent  man. 

He  knew  Mr.  Farrington — who  did  not? — both 
as  a  new  neighbour  and  as  the  possessor  of  great 
wealth. 

"  Your  daughter "  he  began. 

"  My  ward,"  corrected  Mr.  Farrington,  as  he 
switched  on  all  the  lights  of  his  sitting-room,  "  she 
is  out — in  fact  she  is  staying  the  night  with  my 


30  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

friend  Lady  Constance  Dex — do  you  know  her  ?  " 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"  I  can  only  give  you  the  most  meagre  informa- 
tion," said  Mr.  Farrington.  He  was  white  and 
shaky,  a  natural  state  for  a  law-abiding  man  who 
had  witnessed  wilful  murder.  "  I  heard  voices  and 
went  down  to  the  door,  thinking  I  would  find  a 
policeman — then  I  heard  two  shots  almost  simul- 
taneously, and  opened  the  door  and  found  the  two 
men  as  they  were  found  by  the  policeman." 

"What  were  they  talking  about?" 

Mr.  Farrington  hesitated. 

"  I  hope  I  am  not  going  to  be  dragged  into  this 
case  as  a  witness?  "  he  asked,  rather  than  asserted, 
but  received  no  encouragement  in  the  spoken  hope 
from  T.  B.  Smith. 

"  They  were  discussing  that  notorious  man,  Mon- 
tague Fallock,"  said  the  millionaire ;  "  one  was 
threatening  to  betray  him  to  the  police." 

"  Yes,"  said  T.  B.  It  was  one  of  those  "  yesses  " 
which  signified  understanding  and  conviction. 

Then  suddenly  he  asked: 

"  Who  was  the  third  man?  " 

Mr.  Farrington's  face  went  from  white  to  red, 
and  to  white  again. 

"  The  third  man  ?  "  he  stammered. 

"  I  mean  the  man  who  shot  those  two,"   said 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  31 

T.  B.,  "  because  if  there  is  one  thing  more  obvious 
than  another  it  is  that  they  were  both  killed  by  a 
third  person.  You  see,"  he  went  on,  "  though 
they  had  pistols  neither  had  been  discharged — that 
was  evident,  because  on  each  the  safety  catch  was 
raised.  Also  the  lamp-post  near  which  they  stood 
was  chipped  by  a  bullet  which  neither  could  have 
fired.  I  suggest,  Mr.  Farrington,  that  there  was 
a  third  man  present.  Do  you  object  to  my  search- 
ing your  house?  " 

A  little  smile  played  across  the  face  of  the  other. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  objection,"  he  said. 
"  Where  will  you  start?  " 

"  In  the  basement,"  said  T.  B. ;  "  that  is  to  say, 
in  your  kitchen." 

The  millionaire  led  the  way  down  the  stairs,  and 
descended  the  back  stairway  which  led  to  the  domain 
of  the  absent  cook.  He  turned  on  the  electric  light 
as  they  entered. 

There  was  no  sign  of  an  intruder. 

"  That  is  the  cellar  door,"  indicated  Mr.  Farring- 
ton, "  this  the  larder,  and  this  leads  to  the  area 
passage.  It  is  locked." 

T.  B.  tried  the  handle,  and  the  door  opened 
readily. 

"  This  at  any  rate  is  open,"  he  said,  and  entered 
the  dark  passageway. 


32  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  A  mistake  on  the  part  of  the  butler,"  said  the 
puzzled  Mr.  Farrington.  "  I  have  given  the  strict- 
est orders  that  all  these  doors  should  be  fastened. 
You  will  find  the  area  door  bolted  and  chained." 

T.  B.  threw  the  rays  of  his  electric  torch  over  the 
door. 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  be,"  he  remarked ;  "  in  fact, 
the  door  is  ajar." 

Farrington  gasped. 

"Ajar?"  he  repeated.  T.  B.  stepped  out  into 
the  well  of  the  tiny  courtyard.  It  was  approached 
from  the  street  by  a  flight  of  stone  stairs. 

T.  B.  threw  the  circle  of  his  lamp  over  the  flagged 
yard.  He  saw  something  glittering  and  stooped 
to  pick  it  up.  The  object  was  a  tiny  gold-capped 
bottle  such  as  forms  part  of  the  paraphernalia  in 
a  woman's  handbag. 

He  lifted  it  to  his  nose  and  sniffed  it. 

"  That  is  it,"  he  said. 

"What?"  asked  Mr.  Farrington,  suspiciously. 

"  The  scent  I  detected  in  your  hall,"  replied 
T.  B.  "A  peculiar  scent,  is  it  not?"  He  raised 
the  bottle  to  his  nose  again.  "  Not  your  ward's  by 
any  chance  ?  " 

Farrington  shook  his  head  vigorously. 

"  Doris  has  never  been  in  this  area  in  her  life," 
he  said;  "  besides,  she  dislikes  perfumes." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  33 

T.  B.  slipped  the  bottle  in  his  pocket. 

Further  examination  discovered  no  further  clue 
as  to  the  third  person,  and  T.  B.  followed  his  host 
back  to  the  study. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it?  "  asked  Mr.  Farring- 
ton. 

T.  B.  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  walked 
to  the  window  and  looked  out.  The  little  crowd 
which  had  been  attracted  by  the  shots  and  arrival 
of  the  police  ambulance  had  melted  away.  The 
mist  which  had  threatened  all  the  evening  had 
rolled  into  the  square  and  the  street  lamps  showed 
yellow  through  the  dingy  haze. 

"  I  think,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  at  last  got  on 
the  track  of  Montague  Fallock." 

Mr.  Farrington  looked  at  him  with  open  mouth. 

"  You  don't  mean  that?  "  he  asked  incredulously. 

T.  B.  inclined  his  head. 

"  The  open  door  below — the  visitor  ?  "  jerked  the 
stout  man,  "  you  don't  think  Montague  Fallock 
was  in  the  house  to-night?  " 

T.  B.  nodded  again,  and  there  was  a  moment's 
silence. 

"  He  has  been  blackmailing  me,"  said  Mr.  Far- 
rington, thoughtfully,  "  but  I  don't  think " 

The  detective  turned  up  his  coat  collar  prepara- 
tory to  leaving. 


34  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  have  a  rather  unpleasant  job,"  he  said. 
"  I  shall  have  to  search  those  unfortunate 
men." 

Mr.  Farrington  shivered.  "  Beastly,"  he  said, 
huskily. 

T.  B.  glanced  round  the  beautiful  apartment 
with  its  silver  fittings,  its  soft  lights  and  costly 
panellings.  A  rich,  warm  fire  burnt  in  an  oxidized 
steel  grate.  The  floor  was  a  patchwork  of  Persian 
rugs,  and  a  few  pictures  which  adorned  the  walls 
must  have  been  worth  a  fortune. 

On  the  desk  there  was  a  big  photograph  in  a 
plain  silver  frame — the  photograph  of  a  handsome 
woman  in  the  prime  of  life. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  T.  B.,  and  crossed  to  the 
picture,  "  this  is " 

"  Lady  Constance  Dex,"  said  the  other,  shortly — 
"  a  great  friend  of  mine  and  my  ward's." 

"  Is  she  in  town  ?  " 

Mr.  Farrington  shook  his  head. 

"  She  is  at  Great  Bradley,"  he  said ;  "  her  brother 
is  the  rector  there." 

"Great  Bradley?" 

T.  B.'s  frown  showed  an  effort  to  recollect  some- 
thing. 

"  Isn't  that  the  locality  which  contains  the  Secret 
House?" 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  35 

"  I've  heard  something  about  the  place,"  said 
Mr.  Farrington  with  a  little  smile. 

"  C.  D.,"  said  the  detective,  making  for  the  door. 

"What?" 

"  Lady  Constance  Dex's  initials,  I  mean,"  said 
T.  B. 

"Yes— why?" 

f<  Those  are  the  initials  on  the  gold  scent  bottle, 
that  is  all,"  said  the  detective.  "  Good  night." 

He  left  Mr.  Farrington  biting  his  finger  nails — 
a  habit  he  fell  into  when  he  was  seriously  perturbed. 


CHAPTER  III 

TB.  SMITH  sat  alone  in  his  office  in  Scotland 
•  Yard.  Outside,  the  Embankment,  the  river, 
even  the  bulk  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament  were 
blotted  out  by  the  dense  fog.  For  two  days  London 
had  lain  under  the  pall,  and  if  the  weather  experts 
might  be  relied  upon,  yet  another  two  days  of  fog 
was  to  be  expected. 

The  cheery  room,  with  its  polished  oak  panelling 
and  the  chaste  elegance  of  its  electroliers,  offered 
every  inducement  to  a  lover  of  comfort  to  linger. 
The  fire  glowed  bright  and  red  in  the  tiled  fireplace, 
a  silver  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  ticked  musically, 
and  at  his  hand  was  a  white-covered  tray  with  a 
tiny  silver  teapot,  and  the  paraphernalia  necessary 
for  preparing  his  meal — that  strange  tea-supper 
which  was  one  of  T.  B.  Smith's  eccentricities. 

He  glanced  at  the  clock;  the  hands  pointed  to 
twenty-five  minutes  past  one. 

He  pressed  a  little  button  let  into  the  side  of  the 
36 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  37 

desk,  and  a  few  seconds  later  there  was  a  gentle  tap 
at  the  door,  and  a  helmetless  constable  appeared. 
"  Go  to  the  record  room  and  get  me  " — he  con- 
sulted a  slip    of   paper  on  the   desk — "  Number 

G  794I-" 

The  man  withdrew  noiselessly,  and  T.  B.  Smith 
poured  out  a  cup  of  tea  for  himself. 

There  was  a  thoughtful  line  on  his  broad  fore- 
head, a  look  of  unaccustomed  worry  on  the  hand- 
some face,  tanned  with  the  suns  of  Southern 
France.  He  had  come  back  from  his  holiday  to  a 
task  which  required  the  genius  of  a  superman.  He 
had  to  establish  the  identity  of  the  greatest  swindler 
of  modern  times,  Montague  Fallock.  And  now  an- 
other reason  existed  for  his  search.  To  Montague 
Fallock,  or  his  agent,  must  be  ascribed  the  death  of 
two  men  found  in  Brakely  Square  the  night  before. 

No  man  had  seen  Montague ;  there  was  no  photo- 
graph to  assist  the  army  of  detectives  who  were 
seeking  him.  His  agents  had  been  arrested  and 
interrogated,  but  they  were  but  the  agents  of 
agents.  The1  man  himself  was  invisible.  He  stood 
behind  a  steel  network  of  banks  and  lawyers  and 
anonymities,  unreachable. 

The  constable  returned,  bearing  under  his  arm 
a  little  black  leather  envelope,  and,  depositing  it  on 
the  desk  of  the  Assistant  Commissioner,  withdrew. 


38  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

T.  B.  opened  the  envelope  and  removed  three 
neat  packages  tied  with  red  tape.  He  unfastened 
one  of  these  and  laid  three  cards  before  him.  They 
were  three  photographic  enlargements  of  a  finger 
print.  It  did  not  need  the  eye  of  an  expert  to  see 
they  were  of  the  same  finger,  though  it  was  obvious 
that  they  had  been  made  under  different  circum- 
stances. 

T.  B.  compared  them  with  a  smaller  photograph 
he  had  taken  from  his  pocket.  Yes,  there  was  no 
doubt  about  it.  The  four  pictures,  secured  by  a 
delicate  process  from  the  almost  invisible  print  on 
the  latest  letter  of  the  blackmailer,  proved  beyond 
any  doubt  the  identity  of  Lady  Dex's  correspondent. 

He  rang  the  bell  again  and  the  constable  appeared 
in  the  doorway. 

"Is  Mr.  Ela  in  his  office?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  He's  been  taking  information  about 
that  Dock  case." 

"  Dock  case  ?  Oh  yes,  I  remember ;  two  men 
were  caught  rifling  the  Customs  store;  they  shot 
a  dock  constable  and  got  away." 

"  They  both  got  away,  sir,"  said  the  man,  "  but 
one  was  shot  by  the  constable's  mate;  they  found 
his  blood  on  the  pavement  outside  where  their 
motor-car  was  waiting." 

T.  B.  nodded. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  39 

"  Ask  Mr.  Ela  to  come  in  when  he  is  through," 
he  said. 

Mr.  Ela  was  evidently  "  through,"  for  almost 
immediately  after  the  message  had  gone,  the  long, 
melancholy  face  of  the  superintendent  appeared  in 
the  doorway. 

"  Come  in,  Ela,"  smiled  T.  B. ;  "  tell  me  all  your 
troubles." 

"  My  mam  trouble,"  replied  Ela,  as  he  sank 
wearily  into  the  padded  chair,  "  is  to  induce  eye- 
witnesses to  agree  as  to  details;  there  is  absolutely 
no  clue  as  to  the  identity  of  the  robbers,  and  nearly 
murderers.  The  number  of  the  car  was  a  spurious 
one,  and  was  not  traced  beyond  Limehouse.  I 
am  up  against  a  blank  wall.  The  only  fact  I 
have  to  go  upon  is  the  very  certain  fact  that  one  of 
the  robbers  was  either  wounded  or  killed  and  car- 
ried to  the  car  by  his  friend,  and  that  his  body  will 
have  to  turn  up  somewhere  or  other — then  we  may 
have  something  to  go  on." 

"  If  it  should  prove  to  be  that  of  my  friend 
Montague  Fallock,"  said  T.  B.  humorously,  "  I 
shall  be  greatly  relieved.  What  were  your  thieves 
after — bullion  ?  " 

"  Hardly !  No,  they  seem  to  be  fairly  prosaic 
pilferers.  They  engaged  in  going  through  a  few 
trunks — part  of  the  personal  baggage  of  the  Man- 


40  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

davia  which  arrived  from  Coast  ports  on  the  day 
previous.  The  baggage  was  just  heavy  truck;  the 
sort  of  thing  that  a  passenger  leaves  in  the  docks  lor 
a  day  or  two  till  he  has  arranged  for  their  carriage. 
The  trunks  disturbed,  included  one  of  the  First 
Secretary  to  a  High  Commissioner  in  Congoland, 
a  dress  basket  of  a  Mrs.  Somebody-or-other  whose 
name  I  forget — she  is  the  wife  of  a  Commissioner 
— and  a  small  box  belonging  to  Dr.  Goldworthy, 
who  has  just  come  back  from  the  Congo  where  he 
has  been  investigating  sleeping  sickness." 

"  Doesn't  sound  thrilling/'  said  T.  B.  thought- 
fully ;  "  but  why  do  swagger  criminals  come  in  their 
motor-cars  with  their  pistols  and  masks — they 
were  masked  if  I  remember  the  printed  account 
aright  ?  "  Ela  nodded.  "  Why  do  they  come  on 
so  prosaic  an  errand  ?  " 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Ela,  laconically,  then,  "  What 
is  your  trouble  ?  " 

"  Montague,"  said  the  other,  with  a  grim  smile, 
"  Montague  Fallock,  Esquire.  He  has  been  de- 
manding a  modest  ten  thousand  pounds  from  Lady 
Constance  Dex — Lady  Constance  being  a  sister  of 
the  Hon.  and  Rev.  Harry  Dex,  Vicar  of  Great 
Bradley.  The  usual  threat — exposure  of  an  old 
love  affair. 

"  Dex  is  a  large,  bland  aristocrat  under  the  thumb 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  41 

of  his  sister;  the  lady,  a  masterful  woman,  still 
beautiful;  the  indiscretion  partly  atoned  by  the 
death  of  the  man.  He  died  in  Africa.  Those  are 
the  circumstances  that  count.  The  brother  knows, 
but  our  friend  Montague  will  have  it  that  the  world 
should  know.  He  threatens  to  murder,  if  neces- 
sary, should  she  betray  his  demands  to  the  police. 
This  is  not  the  first  time  he  has  uttered  this  threat. 
Farrington,  the  millionaire,  was  the  last  man,  and 
curiously,  a  friend  of  Lady  Dex." 

"  It's  weird — the  whole  business,"  mused  Ela. 
w  The  two  men  you  found  in  the  square  didn't  help 
you?" 

T.  B.,  pacing  the  apartment  with  his  hand  in  his 
pocket,  shook  his  head. 

"  Ferreira  de  Coasta  was  one,  and  Henri  Sans 
the  other.  Both  men  undoubtedly  in  the  employ 
of  Montague,  at  some  time  or  other.  The  former 
was  a  well-educated  man,  who  may  have  acted  as 
intermediary.  He  was  an  architect  who  recently 
got  into  trouble  in  Paris  over  money  matters. 
Sans  was  a  courier  agent,  a  more  or  less 
trusted  messenger.  There  was  nothing  on  either 
body  to  lead  me  to  Montague  Fallock,  save 
this." 

He  pulled  open  the  drawer  of  his  desk  and  pro- 
duced a  small  silver  locket.  It  was  engraved  in 


42  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

the  ornate  style  of  cheap  jewellery  and  bore  a  half- 
obliterated  monogram. 

He  pried  open  the  leaf  of  the  locket  with  his 
thumbnail.  There  was  nothing  in  its  interior  save 
a  small  white  disc. 

"  A  little  gummed  label,"  explained  T.  B.,  "  but 
the  inscription  is  interesting." 

Ela  held  the  locket  to  the  light,  and  read : 

"  Mor  :  Cot. 
God  sav  the  Keng." 

"  Immensely  patriotic,  but  unintelligible  and  il- 
literate," said  T.  B.,  slipping  the  medallion  into  his 
pocket,  and  locking  away  the  dossier  in  one  of  the 
drawers  of  his  desk. 

Ela  yawned. 

"  I'm  sorry — I'm  rather  sleepy.  By  the  way, 
isn't  Great  Bradley,  about  which  you  were  speaking, 
the  home  of  a  romance?  " 

T.  B.  nodded  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  It  is  the  town  which  shelters  the  Secret  House," 
he  said,  as  he  rose,  "  but  the  eccentricities  of  love- 
sick Americans,  who  build  houses  equally  eccentric, 
are  not  matters  for  police  investigation.  You  can 
share  my  car  on  a  fog-breaking  expedition  as  far 
as  Chelsea,"  he  added,  as  he  slipped  into  his  over- 
coat and  pulled  on  his  gloves ;  "  we  may  have  the 
luck  to  run  over  Montague." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  43 

"  You  are  in  the  mood  for  miracles,"  said  Ela, 
as  they  were  descending  the  stairs. 

"  I  am  in  the  mood  for  bed,"  replied  T.  B.  truth- 
fully. Outside  the  fog  was  so  thick  that  the  two 
men  hesitated.  T.  B.'s  chauffeur  was  a  wise  and 
patient  constable,  but  felt  in  his  wisdom  that  pa- 
tience would  be  wasted  on  an  attempt  to  reach 
Chelsea. 

"  It's  thick  all  along  the  road,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  I've  just  'phoned  through  to  Westminster  Police 
Station,  and  they  say  it  is  madness  to  attempt  to 
take  a  car  through  the  fog." 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"I'll  sleep  here,"  he  said.  "You'd  better  bed 
down  somewhere,  David,  and  you,  Ela?" 

"I'll  take  a  little  walk  in  the  park,"  said  the 
sarcastic  Mr.  Ela. 

T.  B.  went  back  to  his  room,  Ela  following. 

He  switched  on  the  light,  but  stood  still  in  the 
doorway.  In  the  ten  minutes'  absence  some  one 
had  been  there.  Two  drawers  of  the  desk  had 
been  forced;  the  floor  was  littered  with  papers 
flung  there  hurriedly  by  the  searcher. 

T.  B.  stepped  swiftly  to  the  desk — the  envelope 
had  gone. 

A  window  was  open  and  the  fog  was  swirling  into 
the  room. 


44  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  There's  blood  here,"  said  Mr.  Ela.  He  pointed 
to  the  dappled  blotting  pad. 

"  Cut  his  hand  on  the  glass/'  said  T.  B.  and 
jerked  his  head  to  the  broken  pane  in  the  window. 
He  peered  out  through  the  open  casement  A  hook 
ladder,  such  as  American  firemen  use,  was  hanging 
to  the  parapet.  So  thick  was  the  fog  that  it  was 
impossible  to  see  how  long  the  ladder  was,  but 
the  two  men  pulled  it  up  with  scarcely  an  effort. 
It  was  made  of  a  stout  light  wood,  with  short  steel 
brackets  affixed  at  intervals. 

"  Blood  on  this  too,"  said  Ela,  then,  to  the 
constable  who  had  come  to  his  ring,  he  jerked  his 
orders  rapidly :  "  Inspector  on  duty  to  surround 
the  office  with  all  the  reserve — 'phone  Cannon  Row 
all  men  available  to  circle  Scotland  Yard,  and 
to  take  into  custody  a  man  with  a  cut  hand — 
'phone  all  stations  to  that  effect." 

"  There's  little  chance  of  getting  our  friend,"  said 
T.  B.  He  took  up  a  magnifying  glass  and  examined 
the  stains  on  the  pad. 

"  Who  was  he?  "  asked  Ela. 

T.  B.  pointed  to  the  stain. 

"  Montague,"  he  said,  briefly,  "  and  he  now 
knows  the  very  thing  I  did  not  wish  him  to  know." 

"And  that  is?" 

T.  B.  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.     He  stood 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  45 

looking  down  at  the  evidence  which  the  intruder 
had  left  behind. 

"  He  knows  how  much  I  know,"  he  said,  grimly, 
"  but  he  may  also  imagine  I  know  more — there 
are  going  to  be  developments." 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  was  a  bad  night  in  London,  not  wild  or  tur- 
bulent, but  swathed  to  the  eyes  like  an  Eastern 
woman  in  a  soft  grey  garment  of  fog.  It  engulfed 
the  walled  canyons  of  the  city,  through  which  the 
traffic  had  roared  all  day,  plugged  up  the  maze  of 
dark  side-streets,  and  blotted  out  the  open  squares. 
Close  to  the  ground  it  was  thick,  viscous,  impene- 
trable, so  that  one  could  not  see  a  yard  ahead, 
and  walked  ghostlike,  adventuring  into  a  strange 
world. 

Occasionally  it  dispersed.  In  front  of  the  Jollity 
Theatre  numbers  of  arc-lights  wrought  a  wavering 
mist-hung  yellow  space,  into  which  a  constant  line 
of  vehicles,  like  monstrous  shiny  beetles,  emerged 
from  the  outer  nowhere,  disgorged  their  contents, 
and  were  eclipsed  again.  And  pedestrians  in  gay 
processional  streamed  across  the  rudy  glistening 
patch  like  figures  on  a  slide. 

Conspicuous  in  the  shifting  throng  was  a  sharp- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  47 

faced  boy,  ostensibly  selling  newspapers,  but  with 
a  keen  eye  upon  the  arriving  vehicles.  Suddenly 
he  darted  to  the  curb,  where  an  electric  coupe  had 
just  drawn  up.  A  man  alighted  heavily,  and 
turned  to  assist  a  young  woman. 

For  an  instant  the  lad's  attention  was  deflected 
by  the  radiant  vision.  The  girl,  wrapped  in  a 
voluminous  cloak  of  ivory  colour,  was  tall  and  slim, 
with  soft  white  throat  and  graceful  neck;  her  eyes 
under  shadowy  lashes  were  a  little  narrow,  but 
blue  as  autumn  mist,  and  sparkling  now  with 
amusement. 

"  Watch  your  steps,  auntie,"  she  warned  laugh- 
ingly, as  a  plump,  elderly,  little  lady  stepped  stiffly 
from  the  coupe.  "  These  London  fogs  are  dan- 
gerous." 

The  boy  stood  staring  at  her,  his  feet  as  helpless 
as  if  they  had  taken  root  to  the  ground.  Suddenly 
he  remembered  his  mission.  His  native  impudence 
reasserted  itself,  and  he  started  forward. 

"Paper,  sir?" 

He  addressed  the  man.  For  a  moment  it  seemed 
as  though  he  were  to  be  rebuffed,  then  something 
in  the  boy's  attitude  changed  his  mind. 

As  the  man  fumbled  in  an  inner  pocket  for  change, 
the  lad  took  a  swift  inventory.  The  face  beneath 
the  tall  hat  was  a  powerful  oval,  paste-coloured, 


48  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

with  thin  lips,  and  heavy  lines  from  nostril  to  jaw. 
The  eyes  were  close  set  and  of  a  turbid  grey. 

"  It's  him,"  the  boy  assured  himself,  and  opened 
his  mouth  to  speak. 

The  girl  laughed  amusedly  at  the  spectacle  of 
her  companion's  passion  for  news  in  this  grimy 
atmosphere,  and  turned  to  the  young  man  in 
evening  dress  who  had  just  dismissed  his  taxi  and 
joined  the  group. 

It  was  the  diversion  the  boy  had  prayed  for. 
He  took  a  quick  step  toward  the  older  man. 

"  T.  B.  S.,"  he  said,  in  a  soft  but  distinct  under- 
tone. 

The  man's  face  blanched  suddenly,  and  a  com 
which  he  held  in  his  large,  white-gloved  palm 
slipped  jingling  to  the  pavement. 

The  young  messenger  stooped  and  caught  it 
dexterously. 

"  T.  B.  S.,"  he  whispered  again,  insistently. 

"  Here  ?  "  the  answer  came  hoarsely.  The  man's 
lips  trembled. 

"  Watchin'  this  theatre — splits  *  by  the  million," 
finished  the  boy  promptly,  and  with  satisfaction. 
Under  cover  of  returning  the  coin,  he  thrust  a  slip 
of  white  paper  into  the  other's  hand. 

Then  he  wheeled,  ducked  to  the  girl  with  a  gay 

1  Splits :    detectiyes. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  49 

little  swagger  of  impudence,  threw  a  lightning 
glance  of  scrutiny  at  her  young  escort,  and  turning, 
was  lost  in  the  throng. 

The  whole  incident  occupied  less  than  a  minute, 
and  presently  the  four  were  seated  in  their  box, 
and  the  gay  strains  from  the  overture  of  The 
Strand  Girl  came  floating  up  to  them. 

"  I  wish  I  were  a  little  street  gamin  in  London," 
said  the  girl  pensively,  fingering  the  violets  at  her 
corsage.  "Think  of  the  adventures!  Don't  you, 
Frank?'' 

Frank  Doughton  looked  across  at  her  with  smiling 
significant  eyes,  which  brought  a  flush  to  her  cheeks. 

"  No,"  he  said  softly,  "  I  do  not  !  " 

The  girl  laughed  at  him  and  shrugged  her  round 
white  shoulders. 

"  For  a  young  journalist,  Frank,  you  are  too 
obvious — too  delightfully  verdant.  You  should 
study  indirection,  subtlety,  finesse — study  our 
mutual  friend  Count  Poltavo !  " 

She  meant  it  mischievously,  and  produced  the 
effect  she  desired. 

At  the  name  the  young  man's  brow  darkened. 

"He  isn't  coming  here  to-night?"  Doughton 
asked,  in  aggrieved  tones. 

The  girl  nodded,  her  eyes  dancing  with  laughter. 

"  What  can  you  see  in  that  man,  Doris  ? "  he 


50  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

protested.  "  I'll  bet  you  anything  you  like  that 
the  fellow's  a  rogue!  A  smooth,  soft-smiling 
rascal!  Lady  Dinsmore,"  he  appealed  to  the 
elder  woman,  "  do  you  like  him?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  ask  Aunt  Patricia !  "  cried  the  girl. 
"  She  thinks  him  quite  the  most  fascinating  man 
in  London.  Don't  deny  it,  auntie!" 

"  I  shan't,"  said  the  lady,  calmly,  "  for  it's 
true !  Count  Poltavo " — she  paused,  to  inspect 
through  her  lorgnette  some  new-comers  in  the 
opposite  box,  where  she  got  just  a  glimpse  of  a  grey 
dress  in  the  misty  depths  of  the  box,  the  whiteness 
of  a  gloved  hand  lying  upon  the  box's  edge — 
"  Count  Poltavo  is  the  only  interesting  man  in 
London.  He  is  a  genius."  She  shut  her  lorgnette 
with  a  snap.  "  It  delights  me  to  talk  with  him. 
He  smiles  and  murmurs  gay  witticisms  and  quotes 
Talleyrand  and  Lucullus,  and  all  the  while,  in  the 
back  of  his  head,  quite  out  of  reach,  his  real  opinions 
of  you  are  being  tabulated  and  ranged  neatly  in  a 
row  like  bottles  on  a  shelf." 

Doris  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  I'd  like  to  take  down  some  of  those  bottles," 
she  said.  "  Some  day  perhaps  I  shall." 

"  They're  probably  labelled  poison,"  remarked 
Frank  viciously.  He  looked  at  the  girl  with  a 
growing  sense  of  injury.  Of  late  she  had  seemed 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  51 

absolutely  changed  towards  him;  and  from  being 
his  good  friend,  with  established  intimacies,  she 
had  turned  before  his  very  eyes  into  an  alien,  almost 
an  enemy,  more  beautiful  than  ever,  to  be  true, 
but  perverse,  mocking,  impish.  She  flouted  him 
for  his  youth,  his  bluntness,  his  guileless  transpa- 
rency. But  hardest  of  all  to  bear  was  the  delicate 
derision  with  which  she  treated  his  awkward 
attempts  to  express  his  passion  for  her,  to  speak 
of  the  fever  which  had  taken  possession  of  him, 
almost  against  his  will.  And  now,  he  reflected 
bitterly,  with  this  velvet  fop  of  a  count  looming 
up  as  a  possible  rival,  with  his  sauoir  faire,  and 
his  absurd  penchant  for  literature  and  art,  what 
chance  had  he,  a  plain  Briton,  against  such  odds? 
— unless,  as  he  profoundly  believed,  the  chap  was 
a  crook.  He  determined  to  sound  her  guardian. 

"  Mr.  Farrington,"  he  asked  aloud,  "  what  do 
you  think — hallo !  "  He  sprang  up  suddenly  and 
thrust  out  a  supporting  arm. 

Farrington  had  risen,  and  stood  swaying  slightly 
upon  his   feet.     He  was  frightfully  pale,  and  his 
countenance   was   contracted   as   if   in  pain.     He 
lifted  a  wavering  hand  to  his  head. 

With  a  supreme  effort  he  steadied  himself. 

"  Doris,"  he  asked  quickly,  "  I  meant  to  ask 
you — where  did  you  leave  Lady  Constance?  " 


52  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

The  girl  looked  up  in  surprise. 

"  I  haven't  seen  her  to-day — she  went  down  to 
Great  Bradley  last  night — didn't  she,  auntie  ?  " 

The  elder  woman  nodded. 

"  Mannish,  and  not  a  little  discourteous  /  think," 
she  said,  "  leaving  her  guests  and  motoring  through 
the  fog  to  the  country.  I  sometimes  think  Con- 
stance Dex  is  a  trifle  mad." 

"  I  wish  I  could  share  your  views,"  said  Farring- 
ton,  grimly. 

He  turned  abruptly  to  Doughton. 

"  Look  after  Doris,"  he  said.  "  I  have  remem- 
bered— an  engagement." 

He  beckoned  Frank,  with  a  scarcely  perceptible 
gesture,  and  the  two  men  passed  out  of  the  box. 

"Have  you  discovered  anything?"  he  asked, 
when  they  were  outside. 

"  About  what  ?  "  asked  Frank,  innocently. 

A  grim  smile  broke  the  tense  lines  of  Mr.  Far- 
rington's  face. 

"  Really !  "  he  said,  drily,  "  for  a  young  man 
engaged  in  most  important  investigations  you  are 
casual." 

"  Oh ! — the  Tollington  business,"  said  the 
other.  "  No,  Mr.  Farrington,  I  have  found  no- 
thing. I  don't  think  it  is  my  game  really — in- 
vestigating and  discovering  people.  I'm  a  pretty 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  53 

good  short  story  writer  but  a  pretty  rotten  detective. 
Of  course,  it  is  awfully  kind  of  you  to  have  given 
me  the  job " 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense,"  snapped  the  older  man. 
"  It  isn't  kindness — it's  self-interest.  Somewhere 
in  this  country  is  the  heir  to  the  Tollington  millions. 
I  am  one  of  the  trustees  to  that  estate  and  I  am 
naturally  keen  on  discovering  the  man  who  will 
relieve  me  of  my  responsibility.  There  is  a  hundred 
pounds  awaiting  the  individual  who  unearths  this 
heir." 

He  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  There  is  one  other  thing  I  want  to  speak  to  you 
about — and  that  is  Doris." 

They  stood  in  the  little  corridor  which  ran  at  the 
back  of  the  boxes,  and  Frank  wondered  why  he 
had  chosen  this  moment  to  discuss  such  urgent 
and  intimate  matters.  He  was  grateful  enougn 
to  the  millionaire  for  the  commission  he  had  given 
him — though  with  the  information  to  go  upon, 
looking  for  the  missing  Tollington  heir  was  an- 
alogous to  seeking  the  proverbial  needle — but  grate- 
ful for  the  opportunity  which  even  this  association 
gave  him  for  meeting  Doris  Gray,  he  was  quite  con- 
tent to  continue  the  search  indefinitely. 

"  You  know  my  views,"  the  other  went  on — he 
glanced  at  his  watch  again.  "  I  want  Doris  to 


54  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

marry  you.  She  is  a  dear  girl,  the  only  human 
being  in  the  world  for  whom  I  have  any  affection." 
His  voice  trembled,  and  none  could  doubt  his 
sincerity.  "  Somehow  I  am  getting  nervous  about 
things — that  shooting  which  I  witnessed  the  other 
night  has  made  me  jumpy — go  in  and  win." 

He  offered  a  cold  hand  to  the  other,  and  Frank 
took  it,  then,  with  a  little  jerk  of  his  head,  and  a 
muttered  "  shan't  be  gone  long,"  he  passed  into  the 
vestibule,  and  out  into  the  foggy  street.  A  shrill 
whistle  brought  a  taxi  from  the  gloom. 

"  The  Savoy,"  said  Farrington.  He  sprang  in, 
and  the  cab  started  with  a  jerk. 

A  minute  later  he  thrust  his  head  from  the 
window. 

"  You  may  drop  me  here,"  he  called.  He 
descended  and  paid  his  fare.  "  I'll  walk  the  rest 
of  the  way,"  he  remarked  casually. 

"  Bit  thickish  on  foot  to-night,  sir,"  offered  the 
driver  respectfully.  "  Better  let  me  set  you  down 
at  the  hotel."  But  his  fare  was  already  lost  in  the 
enveloping  mist. 

Farrington  wrapped  his  muffler  closely  about  his 
chin,  pulled  down  his  hat  to  shadow  his  eyes,  and 
hurried  along  like  a  man  with  a  set  destination. 

Presently  he  halted  and  signalled  to  another  cab, 
crawling  along  close  to  the  curb. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  fog  was  still  heavy,  and  the  blurred  street- 
lamps  looked  ghastly  in  the  yellow  mist, 
when  the  little  newsboy  messenger,  the  first  half  of 
his  mission  performed,  struck  briskly  riverward 
to  complete  his  business.  He  disposed  of  his 
papers  by  the  simple  expedient  of  throwing  them 
into  a  street  refuse-bin.  He  jumped  on  a  passing 
'bus,  and  after  half  an  hour's  cautious  drive  reached 
Southwark.  He  entered  one  of  the  narrow  streets 
leading  from  the  Borough.  Here  the  gas  lamps 
were  fewer,  and  the  intersecting  streets  more  nar- 
row and  gloomy. 

He  plunged  down  a  dark  and  crabbed  way, 
glancing  warily  behind  him  now  and  then  to  see 
if  he  was  being  followed. 

Here,  between  invisible  walls,  the  fog  hung  thick 
and  warm  and  sticky,  crowding  up  close,  with  a 
kind  of  blowsy  intimacy  that  whispered  the  atmo- 

55  . 


56  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

sphere  of  the  place.  Occasionally,  close  to  his  ear, 
snatches  of  loose  song  burst  out,  or  a  coarse  face 
loomed  head-high  through  the  reek. 

But  the  boy  was  upon  his  native  heath  and  scuttled 
along,  whistling  softly  between  closed  teeth,  as, 
with  a  dexterity  born  of  long  practice,  he  skirted 
slush  and  garbage  sinks,  slipped  around  the  blacker 
gulfs  that  denoted  unguarded  basement  holes, 
and  eluded  the  hideous  shadows  that  lurched  by  in 
the  gloom. 

Hugging  the  wall,  he  presently  became  aware  of 
footsteps  behind  him.  He  rounded  a  corner,  and, 
turning  swiftly,  collided  with  something  which 
grabbed  him  with  great  hands.  Without  hesita- 
tion, the  lad  leaned  down  and  set  his  teeth  deep 
into  the  hairy  arm. 

The  man  let  go  with  a  hoarse  bellow  of  rage 
and  the  boy,  darting  across  the  alley,  could  hear 
him  stumbling  after  him  in  blind  search  of  the 
narrow  way. 

As  he  sped  along  a  door  suddenly  opened  in  the 
blank  wall  beside  him,  and  a  stream  of  ruddy  light 
gushed  out,  catching  him  square  within  its  radiance, 
mud-spattered,  starry-eyed,  vivid. 

A  man  stood  framed  in  the  doorway. 

"  Come  in,"  he  commanded,  briefly. 

The  boy  obeyed.     Surreptitiously  he  wiped  the 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  57 

wet  and  mud  from  his  face  and  tried  to  reduce 
his  wild  breathing. 

The  room  which  he  entered  was  meagre  and  stale- 
smelling,  with  bare  floor  and  stained  and  sagging 
wall-paper;  unfurnished  save  for  a  battered  deal 
table  and  some  chairs. 

He  sank  into  one  of  them  and  stared  with  frank 
curiosity  past  his  employer,  who  had  often  en- 
trusted him  with  messages  requiring  secrecy,  past 
his  employer's  companion,  to  the  third  figure  in 
the  room — a  prostrate  figure  which  lay  quite  still 
under  the  heavy  folds  of  a  long  dark  ulster  with 
its  face  turned  to  the  wall. 

"  Well  ?  "  It  was  a  singularly  agreeable  voice 
which  aroused  him,  soft  and  well-bred,  but  with 
a  faint  foreign  accent.  The  speaker  was  his  em- 
ployer, a  slender  dark  man,  with  a  finely  carved 
face,  immobile  as  the  Sphinx.  He  had  laid  aside  his 
Inverness  and  top  hat,  and  showed  himself  in  even- 
ing dress  with  a  large — perhaps  a  thought  too  large 
— buttonhole  of  Parma  violets,  which  sent  forth  a 
faint  fragrance. 

Of  the  personality  of  the  man  the  messenger 
knew  nothing  more  than  that  he  was  foreign, 
eccentric  in  a  quiet  way,  lived  in  a  grand  house 
near  Portland  Place,  and  rewarded  him  hand- 
somely for  his  occasional  services.  That  the  grand 


58  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

house  was  an  hotel  at  which  Poltavo  had  run  up 
an  uncomfortable  bill  he  could  not  know. 

The  boy  related  his  adventures  of  the  evening, 
not  omitting  to  mention  his  late  pursuer. 

The  man  listened  quietly,  brooding,  his  elbows 
upon  the  table,  his  inscrutable  face  propped  in 
the  crotch  of  his  hand.  A  ruby,  set  quaintly  in  a 
cobra's  head,  gleamed  from  a  ring  upon  his  little 
finger.  Presently  he  roused. 

"  That's  all  to-night,  my  boy,"  he  said,  gravely. 

He  drew  out  his  purse,  extracted  a  sovereign, 
and  laid  it  in  the  messenger's  hand. 

"  And  this,"  he  said,  softly,  holding  up  a  second 
gold  piece,  "  is  for — discretion !  You  compre- 
hend?" 

The  boy  shot  a  swift  glance,  not  unmixed  with 
terror,  at  the  still,  recumbent  figure  in  the  corner, 
mumbled  an  assent  and  withdrew.  Out  in  the 
dampness  of  the  fog,  he  took  a  long,  deep  breath. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  him,  the  door  of  an 
inner  room  opened  and  Farrington  came  out.  He 
had  preceded  the  messenger  by  five  minutes.  The 
young  exquisite  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  smiled 
into  the  sombre  eyes  of  his  companion. 

"At  last!"  he  breathed,  softly.  "The  thing 
moves.  The  wheels  are  beginning  to  revolve !  " 

The  other  nodded  gloomily,  his  glance  straying 
off  toward  the  corner  of  the  room. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  59 

"  They've  got  to  revolve  a  mighty  lot  more 
before  the  night's  done !  "  he  replied,  with  heavy 
significance. 

"  I  needn't  tell  you,"  he  continued,  "  that  we 
must  move  in  this  venture  with  extreme  caution. 
A  single  misstep  at  the  outset,  the  slightest  breath 
of  suspicion,  and  pff!  the  entire  superstructure 
falls  to  the  ground." 

"  That  is  doubtless  true,  Mr.  Farrington,"  mur- 
mured his  companion,  pleasantly.  He  leaned  down 
to  inhale  the  fragrant  scent  of  the  violets.  "  But 
you  forget  one  little  thing.  This  grand  super- 
structure you  speak  of — so  mysteriously  " — he 
hid  a  slight  smile — "  I  don't  know  it — all.  You 
have  seen  fit,  in  your  extreme  caution,  to  withhold 
complete  information  from  me." 

He  paused,  and  regarded  his  companion  with 
a  level,  steady  gaze.  A  faint,  ironical  smile  played 
about  the  corners  of  his  mouth;  he  spoke  with 
a  slightly  foreign  accent,  which  was  at  once  pleasant 
and  piquant. 

"  Is  it  not  so,  my  friend  ? "  he  asked,  softly. 
"  I  am — how  you  say — left  out  in  the  cold — I  do 
not  even  know  your  immediate  plans." 

His  countenance  was  serene  and  unruffled,  and 
it  was  only  by  his  slightly  quickened  breathing 
that  the  conversation  held  any  unusual  significance. 


60  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

The  other  stirred  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  There  are  certain  financial  matters,"  he  said, 
with  a  light  air. 

"  There  are  others  immediately  pressing,"  inter- 
rupted his  companion.  "  I  observe,  for  example, 
that  your  right  hand  is  covered  by  a  glove  which 
is  much  larger  than  that  on  your  left.  I  imagine 
that  beneath  the  white  kid  there  is  a  thin  silk 
bandage.  Really,  for  a  millionaire,  Mr.  Farring- 
ton,  you  are  singularly — shall  I  say — '  furtive  '  ?  " 

"  Hush !  "  whispered  Farrington,  hoarsely.  He 
glanced  about  half-fearftilly. 

The  younger  man  ignored  the  outburst.  He 
laid  a  persuasive  hand  upon  his  companion's  arm. 

"  My  friend,"  he  said  gravely,  "  let  me  give  you 
a  bit  of  good  advice.  Believe  me,  I  speak  disin- 
terestedly. Take  me  into  your  counsel.  I  think 
you  need  assistance — and  I  have  already  given  you 
a  taste  of  my  quality  in  that  respect.  This  after- 
noon when  I  called  upon  you  in  your  home  in 
Brakely  Square,  suggesting  that  a  man  of  my 
standing  might  be  of  immense  value  to  you,  yon 
were  at  first  innocently  dull,  then  suspicious.  After 
I  told  you  of  my  adventures  in  the  office  of  a  certain 
Society  journal  you  were  angry.  Frankly,"  the 
young  man  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "  I  am  a  penni- 
less adventurer — can  I  be  more  frank  than  that? 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  61 

I  call  myself  Count  Poltavo — yet  the  good  God 
knows  that  my  family  can  give  no  greater  justifi- 
cation to  the  claim  of  nobility  than  the  indiscre- 
tions of  lovely  Lydia  Poltavo,  my  grandmother, 
can  offer.  For  the  matter  of  that  I  might  as  well 
be  prince  on  the  balance  of  probability.  I  am 
living  by  my  wits :  I  have  cheated  at  cards,  I  have 
hardly  stopped  short  of  murder — I  need  the  patron- 
age of  a  strong  wealthy  man,  and  you  fulfil  all  my 
requirements." 

He  bowed  slightly  to  the  other,  and  went  on: 

"  You  challenged  me  to  prove  my  worth — I 
accepted  that  challenge.  To-night,  as  you  entered 
the  theatre,  you  were  told  by  a  messenger  that 
T.  B.  Smith — a  most  admirable  man — was  watch- 
ing you — that  he  had  practically  surrounded  the 
Jollity  with  detectives,  and,  moreover,  I  chose  as 
my  messenger  a  small  youth  who  has  served  you 
more  than  once.  Thus  at  one  stroke  I  proved 
that  not  only  did  I  know  what  steps  authority  was 
taking  to  your  undoing,  but  also  that  I  had  sur- 
prised this  splendid  rendezvous — and  your  secret" 

He  waived  his  hand  around  the  sordid  room,  and 
his  eyes  rested  awhile  upon  the  silent,  ulster-covered 
figure  on  the  bed ;  his  action  was  not  without  intent. 

"  You  are  an  interesting  man,"  said  Farrington, 
gruffly.  He  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Join  my 


62  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

party  at  the  Jollity,"  he  said;  "  we  can  talk  matters 
over.  Incidentally,  we  may  challenge  Mr.  Smith." 
He  smiled,  but  grew  grave  again.  "  I  have  lost  a 
good  friend  there  " — he  looked  at  the  form  on  the 
bed ;  "  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not 
take  his  place.  Is  it  true — what  you  said  to-day — 
that  you  know  something  of  applied  mechanics?" 
"  I  have  a  diploma  issued  by  the  College  of 
Padua,"  said  the  other  promptly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AT  precisely  ten  o'clock,  as  the  curtain  came 
reefing  slowly  down  upon  the  first  act  of 
The  Strand  Girl,  Lady  Dinsmore  turned  with 
outstretched  hand  to  greet  the  first  of  the  two 
men  who  had  just  entered  the  box. 

"  My  dear  Count,"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  am  dis- 
appointed in  you!  Here  I  have  been  paying  you 
really  quite  tremendous  compliments  to  these 
young  people.  I  presume  you  are  on  Gregory's 
'  business  '  ?  " 

"I  am  desolated!" 

Count  Poltavo  had  a  way  of  looking  at  one  gravely, 
with  an  air  of  concentrated  attention,  as  if  he  were 
seeing  through  the  words,  into  the  very  soul  of  the 
speaker.  He  was,  indeed,  a  wonderful  listener, 
and  this  quality,  added  to  a  certain  buoyancy  of 
temperament,  accounted  perhaps  for  his  popularity 
in  such  society  as  he  had  been  able  to  penetrate. 

"  Before  I  ask  you  to  name  the  crime,  Lady 
63 


64  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Dinsmore,"  he  said,  "  permit  me  to  offer  my  hum- 
blest apologies  for  my  lateness." 

Lady  Dinsmore  shook  her  head  at  him  and 
glanced  at  Farrington,  but  that  dour  man  had  drawn 
a  chair  to  the  edge  of  the  box,  and  was  staring 
moodily  down  into  the  great  auditorium. 

"  You  are  an  incorrigible !  "  she  declared,  "  but 
sit  down  and  make  your  excuses  at  your  leisure. 
You  know  my  niece,  and  I  think  you  have  met  Mr. 
Doughton.  He  is  one  of  our  future  leaders  of 
thought ! " 

The  Count  bowed,  and  sank  into  a  chair  beside  his 
hostess. 

Frank,  after  a  frigidly  polite  acknowledgement, 
resumed  his  conversation  with  Doris,  and  Lady 
Dinsmore  turned  to  her  companion. 

"  Now  for  the  explanation,"  she  exclaimed, 
briskly.  "  I  shall  not  let  you  off !  Unpunctuality 
is  a  crime,  and  your  punishment  shall  be  to  confess 
its  cause." 

Count  Poltavo  bent  toward  her  with  bright, 
smiling  eyes. 

"  A  very  stupid  and  foolish  business  engage- 
ment," he  replied,  "  which  required  my  personal 
attendance,  and  unfortunately  that  of  Mr.  Far- 
rington." 

Lady  Dinsmore  threw  up  a  protesting  hand. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  65 

"  Business  has  no  charms  to  soothe  my  savage 
breast!  Mr.  Farrington,"  she  lowered  her  voice 
confidentially,  "  can  talk  of  nothing  else.  When 
he  was  staying  with  us  he  was  for  ever  telegraphing, 
cabling  to  America,  or  decoding  messages.  There 
was  no  peace  in  the  house,  by  day  or  by  night. 
Finally  I  made  a  stand.  '  Gregory,'  I  said,  '  you 
shall  not  pervert  my  servants  with  your  odious 
tips,  and  turn  my  home  into  a  public  stock-exchange. 
Take  your  bulls  and  bears  over  to  the  Savoy  and 
play  with  them  there,  and  leave  Doris  to  me.' 
And  he  did !  "  she  concluded  triumphantly. 

Count  Poltavo  looked  about,  as  if  noting  for  the 
first  time  Farrington's  preoccupation.  "  Is  he 
quite  well?"  he  inquired,  in  an  undertone. 

Lady  Dinsmore  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Frankly,  I  think  he  had  a  slight  indisposition, 
and  magnified  it  in  order  to  escape  small  talk.  He 
hates  music.  Doris  has  been  quite  distrait  ever 
since.  The  child  adores  her  uncle — you  know,  of 
course,  that  she  is  his  niece — the  daughter  of  my 
sister.  Gregory  was  her  father's  brother — we  are 
almost  related." 

Her  companion  glanced  across  to  the  subject  of 
their  remarks.  The  girl  sat  in  the  front  of  the 
box,  slim  and  elegant,  her  hands  clasped  loosely 
in  her  lap.  She  was  watching  the  brilliant  scene 


66  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

with  a  certain  air  of  detachment,  as  if  thinking  of 
other  things.  Her  usual  lightness  and  gay  banter 
seemed  for  the  moment  to  have  deserted  her,  leav- 
ing a  soft  brooding  wistfulness  that  was  strangely 
appealing. 

The  Count  looked  at  her. 

"  She  is  very  beautiful,"  he  murmured  under 
his  breath. 

Something  in  his  voice  caught  Lady  Dinsmore's 
attention.  She  eyed  him  keenly. 

The  Count  met  her  look  frankly. 

"  Is — is  she  engaged  to  her  young  friend  ?  "  he 
asked  quietly.  "  Believe  me,  it  is  not  vulgar 
curiosity  which  prompts  the  question.  I — I  am 
— interested."  His  voice  was  as  composed  as  ever. 

Lady  Dinsmore  averted  her  gaze  hurriedly  and 
thought  with  lightning  rapidity. 

"  I  have  not  her  confidence,"  she  replied  at 
length,  in  a  low  tone ;  "  she  is  a  wise  young  woman 
and  keeps  her  own  counsel."  She  appeared  to 
hesitate.  "  She  dislikes  you,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
sorry  to  wound  you,  but  it  is  no  secret." 

Count  Poltavo  nodded.  "  I  know,"  he  said, 
simply.  "  Will  you  be  my  good  friend  and  tell 
me  why  ?  " 

Lady  Dinsmore  smiled.  "  I  will  do  better  than 
that,"  she  said  kindly.  "  I  will  be  your  very  good 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  67 

friend  and  give  you  a  chance  to  ask  her  why. 
Frank," — she  bent  forward  and  tapped  the  young 
man  upon  the  shoulder  with  her  fan, — "  will  you 
come  over  here  and  tell  me  what  your  editor  means  ?  " 

The  Count  resigned  his  seat  courteously,  and 
took  the  vacant  place  beside  the  girl.  A  silence 
fell  between  them,  which  presently  the  man  broke, 

"  Miss  Gray,"  he  began,  seriously,  "  your  aunt 
kindly  gave  me  this  opportunity  to  ask  you  a 
question.  Have  I  your  permission  also?  " 

The  girl  arched  her  eyebrows.  Her  lip  curled 
ever  so  slightly. 

"  A  question  to  which  you  and  my  Aunt  Patricia 
could  find  no  answer  between  you !  It  must  be 
subtle  indeed !  How  can  I  hope  to  succeed  ?  " 

He  ignored  her  sarcasm.  "  Because  it  concerns 
yourself." 

"  Ah !  "  She  drew  herself  up  and  regarded  him 
with  sparkling  eyes.  One  small  foot  began  to  tap 
the  floor  ominously.  Then  she  broke  into  a  vexed 
little  laugh. 

"  I  am  no  match  for  you  with  the  foils,  Count. 
I  admit  it  freely.  I  should  have  learned  by  this 
time  that  you  never  say  what  you  mean,  or  mean 
what  you  say." 

"  Forgive  me,  Miss  Gray,  if  I  say  that  you  mis- 
take me  utterly.  I  mean  always  what  I  say — 


68  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

most  of  all  to  you.  But  to  say  all  that  I  mean — to 
put  into  speech  all  that  one  hopes  or  dreams — or 
dares," — his  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper — "  to 
turn  oneself  inside  out  like  an  empty  pocket  to  the 
gaze  of  the  multitude — that  is — imbecile."  He 
threw  out  his  hands  with  an  expressive  gesture. 

"  But  to  speak  concretely — I  have  unhappily 
offended  you,  Miss  Gray.  Something  I  have  done, 
or  left  undone — or  my  unfortunate  personality 
does  not  engage  your  interest.  Is  it  not  true  ?  " 

There  was  no  mistaking  his  sincerity  now. 

But  the  girl  still  held  aloof,  her  blue  eyes  cool 
and  watchful.  For  the  moment,  her  face,  in  its 
young  hardness,  bore  a  curious  resemblance  to  her 
uncle's. 

"Is  that  your  question?"  she  demanded. 

The  Count  bowed  silently. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you ! "  She  spoke  in  a  low 
voice  surcharged  with  emotion.  "  I  will  give  you 
candour  for  candour,  and  make  an  end  of  all  this 
make-believe." 

"  That,"  he  murmured,  "  is  what  I  most  desire." 

Doris  continued,  heedless  of  the  interruption. 
"  It  is  true  that  I  dislike  you.  I  am  glad  to  be  able 
to  tell  you  as  much  openly.  And  yet,  perhaps,  I 
should  use  another  word.  I  dislike  your  secrecy 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  69 

• — something  dark  and  hidden  within  you — and  I 
fear  your  influence  over  my  uncle.  You  have 
known  me  less  than  a  fortnight — Mr.  Farrington, 
less  than  a  week — yet  you  have  made  what  I  can 
only  conceive  to  be  impertinent  proposals  of  mar- 
riage to  me.  To-day  you  were  for  three  hours  with 
my  uncle.  I  can  only  guess  what  your  business 
has  been." 

"  You  would  probably  guess  wrong,"  he  said 
coolly. 

Farrington,  at  the  other  end  of  the  box,  shot  a 
swift,  suspicious  glance  across.  Poltavo  turned  to 
the  girl  again. 

"  I  want  only  to  be  a  friend  of  yours  in  the  day 
of  your  need,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice ;  "  believe  me, 
that  day  is  not  far  distant." 

"  That  is  true  ?  "  She  leaned  toward  him,  a 
little  troubled. 

He  bowed  his  head  in  assent. 

"  If  I  could  believe  you,"  she  faltered.  "  I  need 
a  friend!  Oh,  if  you  could  know  how  I  have  been 
torn  by  doubts — beset  by  fears — oppressions." 
Her  voice  quivered.  "  There  is  something  wrong 
somewhere — I  can't  tell  you  everything — if  you 
would  help  me — wait  May  I  test  you  with  a 
question  ?  " 


70  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  A  thousand  if  you  like." 

"And  you  will  answer — truthfully?"  In  her 
eagerness  she  was  like  a  child. 

He  smiled.  "  If  I  answer  at  all,  be  sure  it  will 
be  truthful." 

"  Tell  me  then,  is  Dr.  Fall  your  friend  ?  " 

"  He  is  my  dearest  enemy,"  he  returned,  promptly. 

He  had  only  the  dimmest  notion  as  to  the  identity 
of  Dr.  Fall,  but  it  seemed  that  a  lie  was  demanded 
— Poltavo  could  lie  very  easily. 

"  Or  Mr.  Gorth  ?  "  she  asked,  and  he  shook  his 
head. 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  "  And  my 
uncle  ? "  The  question  was  a  whisper.  She 
appeared  to  hang  upon  his  reply. 

The  Count  hesitated.  "  I  do  not  know,"  he 
admitted  finally.  "If  he  were  not  influenced  by 
Dr.  Fall,  I  believe  he  would  be  my  friend."  It  was 
a  bow  at  a  venture.  He  was  following  the  bent  of 
her  inclination. 

For  the  first  time  that  evening  Doris  looked  at 
him  with  interest. 

"  May  I  ask  how  your  uncle  came  to  know 
Gorth?" 

He  asked  the  question  with  the  assurance  of  one 
who  knew  all  that  was  to  be  known  save  on  this 
point. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  71 

She  hesitated  awhile. 

"  I  don't  quite  know.  The  doctor  we  have 
always  known.  He  lives  in  the  country,  and  we 
only  see  him  occasionally.  He  is "  She  hesi- 
tated and  then  went  on  rapidly:  "I  think  he  has 
rather  dreadful  work.  He  is  in  charge  of  a  lunatic." 

Poltavo  was  interested. 

"  Please  go  on,"  he  said. 

The  girl  smiled.  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  an  awful 
gossip,"  she  rallied,  but  became  more  serious.  "  I 
don't  like  him  very  much,  but  uncle  says  that  is 
my  prejudice.  He  is  one  of  those  quiet,  sure  men 
who  say  very  little  and  make  one  feel  rather 
foolish.  Don't  you  know  that  feeling?  It  is  as 
though  one  were  dancing  the  tango  in  front  of 
the  Sphinx." 

Poltavo  showed  his  white  teeth  in  a  smile. 

"  I  have  yet  to  have  that  experience,"  he  said. 

She  nodded. 

"  One  of  these  days  you  will  meet  Dr.  Fall  and 
you  will  know  how  helpless  one  can  feel  in  his 
presence." 

A  remarkable  prophecy  which  was  recalled  by 
Poltavo  at  a  moment  when  he  was  powerless  to 
profit  by  the  warning. 

"Mr.  Gorth?" 

Again  she  hesitated  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 


72  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Well,"  she  said  frankly,  "  he  is  just  a  common 
man.  He  looks  almost  like  a  criminal  to  my 
mind.  But  apparently  he  has  been  a  loyal  servant 
to  uncle  for  many  years." 

"  Tell  me,"  asked  Poltavo,  "  on  what  terms  is 
Dr.  Fall  with  your  uncle?  On  terms  of  equality?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  Naturally,"  she  said  with  a  look  of  surprise, 
"he  is  a  gentleman,  and  is,  I  believe,  fairly  well 
off." 

"And  Gorth?"  asked  Poltavo. 

He  was  interested  for  many  reasons  as  one  who 
had  to  take  the  place  of  that  silent  figure  which 
lay  in  the  fog-shrouded  house. 

"  I  hardly  know  how  to  describe  uncle's  relations 
with  Gorth,"  she  answered,  a  little  puzzled.  "  There 
was  a  time  when  they  were  on  terms  of  perfect 
equality,  but  sometimes  uncle  would  be  very  angry 
with  him  indeed.  He  was  rather  a  horrid  man 
really.  Do  you  know  a  paper  called  Gossip's 
Corner?  "  she  asked  suddenly. 

Poltavo  had  heard  of  the  journal  and  had  found 
a  certain  malicious  joy  in  reading  its  scandalous 
paragraphs. 

"  Well,"  she  said  in  answer  to  his  nod,  "  that 
was  Mr.  Gorth's  idea  of  literature.  Uncle  would 
never  have  the  paper  in  his  house,  but  whenever 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  73 

you  saw  Mr.  Gorth — he  invariably  waited  for 
uncle  in  the  kitchen — you  would  be  sure  to  find  him 
chuckling  over  some  of  the  horrid  things  which 
that  paper  published.  Uncle  used  to  get  more 
angry  about  this  than  anything  else,  Mr.  Gorth 
took  a  delight  in  all  the  unpleasant  things  which 
this  wretched  little  paper  printed.  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  he  had  something  to  do  with  its  publica- 
tion; but  when  I  spoke  to  uncle  about  it,  he  was 
rather  cross  with  me  for  thinking  such  a  thing." 

Poltavo  was  conscious  that  the  eyes  of  Farrington 
were  searching  his  face  narrowly,  and  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye  he  noted  the  obvious  disapproval. 
He  turned  round  carelessly. 

"  An  admirable  sight — a  London  theatre  crowd." 

"  Very,"  said  the  millionaire,  drily. 

"  Celebrities  on  every  hand — Montague  Fallock, 
for  instance,  is  here." 

Farrington  nodded. 

"  And  that  wise-looking  young  man  in  the  very 
end  seat  of  the  fourth  row — he  is  in  the  shadow, 
but  you  may  see  him." 

"T.  B.  Smith,"  said  Farrington,  shortly.  "I 
have  seen  him — I  have  seen  everybody  but " 

"But ?" 

"  The  occupant  of  the  royal  box.  She  keeps  in 
the  shadow  all  the  time.  She  is  not  a  detective, 


74  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

too,  I  suppose  ? "  he  asked,  sarcastically.  He 
looked  round.  Frank  Doughton,  his  niece  and  Lady 
Dinsmore  were  engrossed  in  conversation. 

"  Poltavo,"  he  said,  dropping  his  voice,  "  I  want 
to  know  who  that  woman  is  in  the  opposite  box — I 
have  a  reason." 

The  orchestra  was  playing  a  soft  intermezzo,  and 
of  a  sudden  the  lights  went  down  in  the  house, 
hushed  to  silence  as  the  curtain  went  slowly  up 
upon  the  second  act. 

There  was  a  shifting  of  chairs  to  distribute  the 
view,  a  tense  moment  of  silence  as  the  chorus  came 
down  a  rocky  defile  and  then — a  white  pencil  of 
flame  shot  out  from  the  royal  box  and  a  sharp  crash 
of  a  pistol  report. 

"  My  God !  "  gasped  Mr.  Farrington,  and  stag- 
gered back. 

There  was  a  loud  babble  of  voices,  a  stentorian 
voice  from  the  back  of  the  stalls  shouted,  "  House 
lights — quick !  "  The  curtain  fell  as  the  house  was 
bathed  in  the  sudden  glare  of  lights. 

T.  B.  saw  the  flash  and  leapt  for  the  side  aisle: 
two  steps  and  he  was  at  the  door  which  led  to  the 
royal  box.  It  was  empty.  He  passed  quickly 
through  the  retiring  room — empty  also,  but  the 
private  entrance  giving  on  to  the  street  was  open 
and  the  fog  was  drifting  through  in  great  wreaths. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  75 

He  stepped  out  into  the  street  and  blew  a  shrill 
whistle.  Instantly  from  the  gloom  came  a  plain 
clothes  policeman — No,  he  had  seen  nobody  pass. 
T.  B.  went  back  to  the  theatre,  raced  round  to  the 
box  opposite  and  found  it  in  confusion. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Farrington?"  he  asked,  quickly. 

He  addressed  his  remark  to  Poltavo. 

"  He   is   gone,"   said  the   other,   with   a   shrug. 

"  He  was  here  when  the  pistol  was  fired — at  this 
box,  my  friend,  as  the  bullet  will  testify."  He 
pointed  to  the  mark  on  the  enamelled  panel  behind. 
"  When  the  lights  came  he  had  gone — that  is  all." 

"  He  can't  have  gone,"  said  T.  B.  shortly.  "  The 
theatre  is  surrounded.  I  have  a  warrant  for  his 
arrest." 

A  cry  from  the  girl  stopped  him.  She  was 
white  and  shaking. 

"  Arrest! ''  she  gasped,  "  on  what  charge?  " 

"  On  a  charge  of  being  concerned  with  one  Gorth 
in  burglary  at  the  Docks — and  with  an  attempted 
murder." 

"Gorth!"  cried  the  girl,  vehemently.  "If  any 
man  is  guilty,  it  is  Gorth — that  evil  man " 

"  Speak  softly  of  the  dead,"  said  T.  B.  gently. 
"  Mr.  Gorth,  as  I  have  every  reason  to  believe, 
received  wounds  from  which  he  died.  Perhaps  you 
can  enlighten  me,  Poltavo?  " 


76  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

But  the  Count  could  only  spread  deprecating 
hands. 

T.  B.  went  out  into  the  corridor.  There  was  an 
emergency  exit  to  the  street,  but  the  door  was 
closed.  On  the  floor  he  found  a  glove,  on  the  doo* 
itself  the  print  of  a  bloody  hand. 

But  there  was  no  sign  of  Farrington. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TWO  days  later,  at  the  stroke  of  ten,  Frank 
Doughton  sprang  from  his  taxi  in  front  of 
the  office  of  the  Evening  Times. 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  drawing  in  the  fresh 
March  air,  sweet  with  the  breath  of  approaching 
spring.  The  fog  of  last  night  had  vanished,  leaving 
no  trace.  He  caught  the  scent  of  Southern  lilacs 
from  an  adjoining  florist  shop. 

He  took  the  stairs  three  at  a  time. 

"Chief  in  yet?"  he  inquired  of  Jamieson,  the 
news  editor,  who  looked  up  in  astonishment  at  his 
entrance,  and  then  at  the  clock. 

"  No,  he's  not  down  yet.  You've  broken  your 
record." 

Frank  nodded. 

"  I've  got  to  get  away  early." 

Tossing  his  hat  upon  his  desk,  he  sat  down  and 
went  methodically  through  his  papers.  He  un- 
folded his  Times,  his  mind  intent  upon  the  problem 

77 


78  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

of  the  missing  millionaire.  He  had  not  seen  Doris 
since  that  night  in  the  box.  The  first  paper  under 
his  hand  was  an  early  edition  of  a  rival  evening 
journal. 

He  glanced  down  at  the  headlines  on  the  front 
page,  then  with  a  horrified  cry  he  sprang  to  his  feet 
He  was  pale,  and  the  hand  which  gripped  the  paper 
shook. 

"  Good  Lord!  "  he  exclaimed. 

Jamieson  swung  round  in  his  swivel  chair. 

"  What's  up?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Farrington !  "  said  Frank,  huskily.  "  Farring- 
ton  has  committed  suicide !  " 

"  Yes,  we've  a  column  about  it,"  remarked 
Jamieson,  complacently.  "  A  pretty  good  story." 
Then  suddenly :  "  You  knew  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

Frank  Doughton  lifted  a  face  from  which  every 
vestige  of  colour  had  been  drained.  "  I — I  was 
•with  him  at  the  theatre  on  the  night  he  disappeared," 
he  said. 

Jamieson  whistled  softly. 

Doughton  rose  hurriedly  and  reached  for  his  hat. 

"  I  must  go  to  them.  Perhaps  something  can  be 
done.  Doris "  he  broke  off,  unable  to  con- 
tinue, and  turned  away  sharply. 

Jamieson  looked  at  him  sympathetically. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  round  to  Brakely  Square  ?  " 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  79 

he  suggested.  "  There  may  be  new  developments 
— possibly  a  mistake.  You  note  that  the  body 
has  not  been  discovered." 

Out  upon  the  pavement,  Frank  caught  a  passing 
taxi. 

He  drove  first  to  the  city  offices  which  were 
Farrington's  headquarters.  A  short  talk  with  the 
chief  clerk  was  more  than  enlightening.  A  brief 
note  in  the  handwriting  of  the  millionaire  announced 
his  intention,  "  tired  of  the  world,"  to  depart  there- 
from. 

"  But  why?  "  asked  the  young  man,  in  bewilder- 
ment. 

"  Mr.  Doughton,  you  don't  seem  to  quite  realize 
the  importance  of  this  tragedy,"  said  the  chief 
clerk,  quietly.  "  Mr.  Farrington  was  a  financial 
king — a  multi-millionaire.  Or  at  least,  he  was  so 
Considered  up  till  this  morning.  We  have  examined 
his  private  books,  and  it  now  appears  that  he  had 
speculated  heavily  during  the  last  few  weeks — he 
has  lost  everything,  every  penny  of  his  own  and 
his  ward's  fortune.  Last  night,  in  a  fit  of  despair, 
he  ended  his  life.  Even  his  chief  clerk  had  no 
knowledge  of  his  transactions." 

Doughton  looked  at  him  in  a  kind  of  stupefaction. 
Was  it  of  Farrington  the  man  was  talking  such 
drivel?  Farrington,  who  only  the  week  before  had 


8o  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

told  him  in  high  gratification  that  within  the  last 
month  he  had  added  a  cool  million  to  his  ward's 
marriage  portion.  Farrington,  who  had,  but  two 
days  ago,  hinted  mysteriously  of  a  gigantic  finan- 
cial coup  in  the  near  future.  And  now  all  that 
fortune  was  lost,  and  the  loser  was  lying  at  the 
bottom  of  the  Thames! 

"  I  think  I  must  be  going  mad,"  he  muttered. 
"  Mr.  Farrington  wasn't  the  kind  to  kill  himself." 

"  It  is  not  as  yet  known  to  the  public,  but  I 
think  I  may  tell  you,  since  you  were  a  friend  of 
Farrington's,  that  Mr.  T.  B.  Smith  has  been  given 
charge  of  the  matter.  He  will  probably  wish  to 
know  your  address.  And  in  the  meantime,  if  you 
run  across  anything " 

"  Certainly !  I  will  let  you  know.  Smith  is  an 
able  man,  of  course."  Doughton  gave  the  number 
of  his  chambers,  and  retreated  hastily,  glad  that 
the  man  had  questioned  him  no  further. 

He  found  his  cab  and  flung  himself  wearily  against 
the  cushions.  And  now  for  Doris! 

But  Doris  was  not  visible.  Lady  Dinsmore  met 
him  in  the  morning  room,  her  usually  serene  coun- 
tenance full  of  trouble.  He  took  her  Jiand  in 
silence. 

"It  is  good  of  you,  my  dear  Frank,  to  come  so 
quickly.  You  have  heard  all  ?  " 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  81 

He  nodded. 

"How  is  Doris?" 

She  sank  into  a  chair  and  shook  her  head. 

"  The  child  is  taking  it  terribly  hard !  Quite 
tearless,  but  with  a  face  like  frozen  marble!  She 
refused  to  believe  the  news,  until  she  saw  his  own 
writing.  Then  she  fainted." 

Lady  Dinsmore  took  out  her  lace  handkerchief 
and  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  Doris,"  she  continued,  in  a  moment,  "  has  sent 
for  Count  Poltavo." 

Frank  stared  at  her. 

"Why?  "he  demanded. 

Lady  Dinsmore  shook  her  head. 

"  I  cannot  say,  definitely,"  she  replied,  with  a 
sigh.  "  She  is  a  silent  girl.  But  I  fancy  she  feels 
that  the  Count  knows  something — she  believes  that 
Gregory  met  with  foul  play." 

Frank  leaned  forward. 

"  My  own  idea !  "  he  said,  quietly. 

Lady  Dinsmore  surveyed  him  with  faint,  good- 
humoured  scorn. 

;<  You  do  not  know  Gregory,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause. 

"  But — I  do  not  follow  you!  If  it  was  not  mur- 
der it  must  have  been  suicide.  But  why  should 
Mr.  Farrington  kill  himself?  " 


82  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  am  sure  that  he  had  not  the  slightest  idea  of 
doing  anything  so  unselfish,"  returned  Lady  Dins- 
more,  composedly. 

"  Then  what " 

"  Why  are  you  so  absolutely  sure  that  he  is 
dead?"  she  asked  softly. 

Frank  stared  at  her  in  blank  amazement. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  he  gasped.  Was  she 
mad  also  ? 

"  Simply  that  he  is  no  more  dead  than  you  or 
I,"  she  retorted,  coolly.  "  What  evidence  have 
we?  A  letter,  in  his  own  handwriting,  telling  us 
gravely  that  he  has  decided  to  die!  Does  it  sound 
probable?  It  is  a  safe  presumption  that  that  is 
the  farthest  thing  from  his  intentions.  For  when 
did  Gregory  ever  tell  the  truth  concerning  his 
movements?  No,  depend  upon  it,  he  is  not  dead. 
For  purposes  of  his  own,  he  is  pretending  to  be. 
He  has  decided  to  exist — surreptitiously." 

"  Why  should  he  ?  "  asked  the  bewildered  young 
man.  This  was  the  maddest  theory  of  all.  His 
head  swam  with  a  riot  of  conflicting  impressions. 
He  seemed  to  have  been  hurled  headlong  into  a 
frightful  nightmare,  and  he  longed  to  emerge 
again  into  the  light  of  the  prosaic,  everyday 
world. 

The  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  opened. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  83 

He  looked  up  eagerly,  half  expecting  to  see  Far  ring- 
ton  himself,  smiling  upon  the  threshold. 

It  was  Doris.  She  stood  there  for  a  moment, 
uncertain,  gazing  at  them  rather  strangely.  In 
her  white  morning  dress,  slightly  crumpled,  and  her 
dark  hair  arranged  in  smooth  bandeaux,  she  was 
amazingly  like  a  child.  The  somewhat  cold  spring 
sunlight  which  streamed  through  the  window  showed 
that  the  event  of  the  night  had  already  set  its 
mark  upon  her.  There  were  faint  violet  shadows 
beneath  her  eyes,  and  her  face  was  pale. 

Frank  came  forward  hastily,  everything  blotted 
from  his  mind  but  the  sight  of  her  white,  grief- 
stricken  face.  He  took  both  her  hands  in  his  warm 
clasp. 

The  girl  gave  him  a  long,  searching  scrutiny, 
then  her  lips  quivered,  and  with  a  smothered  sob  she 
flung  herself  into  his  arms  and  hid  her  face  on  his 
shoulder. 

Frank  held  her  tenderly.  "  Don't,"  he  whis- 
pered unsteadily — "  don't  cry,  dear." 

In  her  sorrow,  she  was  inexpressibly  sweet  and 
precious  to  him. 

He  bent  down  and  smoothed  with  gentle  fingers 
the  soft,  dusky  hair.  The  fragrance  of  it  filled  his 
nostrils.  Its  softness  sent  a  delicious  ecstasy 
thrilling  from  his  finger-tips  up  his  arm.  All  his 


84  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

life  he  would  remember  this  one  moment.  He  gazed 
down  at  her  tenderly,  a  wonderful  light  in  his  young 
face. 

"Dear!"  he  whispered  again. 

She  lifted  a  pallid  face  to  him.  Her  violet  eyes 
were  misty,  and  tiny  drops  of  dew  were  still  tangled 
in  her  lashes. 

'  You — you  are  good  to  me,"  she  murmured. 

At  his  answering  look,  a  faint  colour  swept  into 
her  cheeks.  She  gently  disengaged  herself  and 
sat  down. 

Lady  Dinsmore  came  forward,  and  seating  her- 
self beside  the  girl  upon  the  divan,  drew  her  close 
within  the  shelter  of  her  arms. 

"  Now,  Frank,"  she  said,  cheerily,  indicating 
a  chair  opposite,  "  sit  down,  and  let  us  take  counsel 
together.  And  first  of  all," — she  pressed  the 
girl's  cold  hand — "  let  me  speak  my  strongest 
conviction.  Gregory  is  not  dead.  Something  tells 
me  that  he  is  safe  and  well." 

Doris  turned  her  eyes  to  the  young  man  wist- 
fully. "  You  have  heard  something — later  ?  "  she 
asked. 

He  shook  his  head.  "  There  has  been  no  time 
for  fresh  developments  yet.  Scotland  Yard  is  in 
charge  of  the  affair,  and  T.  B.  Smith  has  been  put 
upon  the  case." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  85 

She  shuddered  and  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

"  He  said  he  was  going  to  arrest  him — how  strange 
and  ghastly  it  all  is !  "  she  whispered.  "  I — I 
cannot  get  it  out  of  my  head.  The  dark  river — my 
poor  uncle — I  can  see  him  there — "  She  broke 
off. 

Lady  Dinsmore  looked  helplessly  across  to  the 
young  man. 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  a  servant  brought  a 
letter. 

Lady  Dinsmore  arched  her  eyebrows  signifi- 
cantly. "  Poltavo !  "  she  murmured. 

Doris  darted  forward  and  took  the  letter  from 
the  salver.  She  broke  the  seal  and  tore  out  the 
contents,  and  seemed  to  comprehend  the  message 
at  a  glance.  A  little  cry  of  joy  escaped  her.  Her 
face,  which  had  been  pale,  flushed  a  rosy  hue. 
She  bent  to  read  it  again,  her  lips  parted.  Her 
whole  aspect  breathed  hope  and  assurance.  She 
folded  the  note,  slipped  it  into  her  bosom,  and, 
without  a  word,  walked  from  the  room. 

Frank  stared  after  her,  white  to  the  lips  with 
rage  and  wounded  love. 

Lady  Dinsmore  rose  briskly  to  her  feet. 

"  Excuse  me.  Wait  here !  "  she  said,  and  rustled 
after  her  niece. 


86  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Frank  Doughton  paced  up  and  down  the  room 
distractedly,  momentarily  expecting  her  reappear- 
ance. Only  a  short  half-hour  ago,  with  Doris'  head 
upon  his  breast,  he  had  felt  supremely  happy; 
now  he  was  plunged  into  an  abyss  of  utter  wretch- 
edness. What  were  the  contents  of  that  brief 
note  which  had  affected  her  so  powerfully?  Why 
should  she  secrete  it  with  such  care  unless  it  con- 
veyed a  lover's  assurance?  His  foot  came  into 
contact  with  a  chair,  and  he  swore  under  his 
breath. 

The  servant,  who  had  entered  unobserved, 
coughed  deprecatingly. 

"  Her  ladyship  sends  her  excuses,  sir,"  he  said, 
"  and  says  she  will  write  you  later." 

He  ushered  the  young  man  to  the  outer  door. 

Upon  the  top  step  Frank  halted  stiffly.  He  found 
himself  face  to  face  with  Poltavo. 

The  Count  greeted  him  gravely. 

"  A  sad  business !  "  he  murmured.  "  You  have 
seen  the  ladies?  How  does  Miss  Gray  bear  it? 
She  is  well?" 

Frank  gazed  at  him  darkly. 

"  Your  note   recovered  her ! "  he   said,   quietly. 

"  Mine !  "  Surprise  was  in  the  Count's  voice. 
"  But  I  have  not  written.  I  am  come  in  person." 

Frank's  face  expressed  scornful  incredulity.     He 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  87 

lifted  his  hat  grimly  and  descended  the  steps,  and 
came  into  collision  with  a  smiling,  brown- faced 
man. 

"  Mr.  Smith !  "  he  said,  eagerly,  "  is  there  any 
news  ?  " 

T.  B.  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"  The  Thames  police  have  picked  up  the  body 
of  a  man  bearing  upon  his  person  most  of  Mr. 
Farrington's  private  belongings." 

"  Then  it  is  true !     It  is  suicide  ?  " 

T.  B.  looked  past  him. 

"  If  a  man  cut  his  own  head  off  before  jumping 
into  the  river,  it  was  suicide,"  he  said  carefully, 
"  for  the  body  is  headless.  As  for  myself,  I  have 
never  witnessed  such  a  phenomenon,  and  I  am 
sceptical." 

A  train  drew  into  the  arrival  platform  at  Water- 
loo and  a  tall  man  alighted.  Nearer  at  hand  he  did 
not  appear  to  be  so  young  as  the  first  impression 
suggested.  For  there  was  a  powdering  of  grey 
at  each  temple  and  certain  definite  lines  about  his 
mouth. 

His  face  was  tanned  brown,  and  it  required  no 
great  powers  of  observation  and  deduction  to  appre- 
ciate the  fact  that  he  had  recently  returned  to 
England  after  residence  in. a  hot  climate. 


88  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

He  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  curb  outside  the  new 
entrance  of  the  station,  hesitating  whether  he  should 
take  his  chance  of  rinding  a  cab  or  whether  he  should 
pick  up  one  in  the  street,  for  the  night  was  wet 
and  cold  and  his  train  had  been  full. 

Whilst  he  stood  a  big  taxi  came  noiselessly  to 
the  curb  and  the  driver  touched  his  cap. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  man  with  a  smile.  "  You 
can  drive  me  to  the  Metropole." 

He  swung  the  door  open  and  his  foot  was  on  the 
step  when  a  hand  touched  him  lightly,  and  he 
turned  to  meet  the  scrutiny  of  a  pair  of  humorous 
grey  eyes. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  take  another  cab, 
Dr.  Goldworthy,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  I  am  afraid "  began  the  doctor. 

The  driver  of  the  car,  after  a  swift  glance  at 
the  new-comer,  would  have  driven  off,  but  an  un- 
mistakable detective-officer  had  jumped  on  to  the 
step  by  his  side. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  T.  B.  Smith,  for  he  it  was  who 
had  detained  the  young  doctor,  "  but  I  will  explain. 
Don't  bother  about  the  taxi  driver;  my  men  will 
see  after  him.  You  have  had  a  narrow  escape  of 
being  kidnapped,"  he  added. 

He  drove  the  puzzled  doctor  to  Scotland  Yard, 
and  piece  by  piece  he  extracted  the  story  of  one 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  89 

George  Doughton  who  had  died  in  his  arms,  of  a 
certain  box  containing  papers  which  the  doctor 
had  promised  to  deliver  to  Lady  Constance,  and  of 
how  that  lady  learnt  the  news  of  her  sometime 
lover's  death. 

'  Thank  you,"  said  T.  B.  when  the  other  had 
finished.     "  I  think  I  understand." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IT  was  the  morning  after  the  recovery  of  Far- 
rington's  body  that  T.  B.  Smith  sat  in  his  big 
study  overlooking  Brakely  Square.  He  had  finished 
his  frugal  breakfast,  the  tray  had  been  taken 
away,  and  he  was  busy  at  his  desk  when  his  man- 
servant announced  Lady  Constance  Dex.  T.  B. 
looked  at  the  card  with  an  expressionless  face. 

"  Show  the  lady  up,  George,"  he  said,  and  rose 
to  meet  his  visitor  as  she  came  sweeping  through 
the  doorway. 

A  very  beautiful  woman  was  his  first  impression. 
Whatever  hardness  there  was  in  the  face,  whatever 
suggestion  there  might  be  of  those  masterful  quali- 
ties about  which  he  had  heard,  there  could  be  no 
questioning  the  rare  clearness  of  the  skin,  the 
glories  of  those  hazel  eyes,  or  the  exquisite  modelling 
of  the  face.  He  judged  her  to  be  on  the  right  side 
of  thirty,  and  was  not  far  out,  for  Lady  Constance 
Dex  at  that  time  was  twenty-seven. 

90 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  91 

She  was  well,  even  richly,  dressed,  but  she  did 
not  at  first  give  this  impression.  T.  B.  imagined 
that  she  might  be  an  authority  on  dress,  and  in 
this  he  took  an  accurate  view,  for  though  not 
exactly  a  leader  of  fashion,  Lady  Constance  had 
perfect  taste  in  such  matters. 

He  pulled  forward  a  chair  to  the  side  of  his  desk. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down?  "  he  said. 

She  gave  a  brief  smile  as  she  seated  herself. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  I  am  a  bore,  dis- 
turbing you,  Mr.  Smith,  especially  at  this  hour 
of  the  morning,  but  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  the 
extraordinary  happenings  of  the  past  few  days.  I 
have  just  come  up  to  town,"  she  went  on;  "in 
fact,  I  came  up  the  moment  I  heard  the  news." 

"  Mr.  Farrington  is,  or  was,  a  friend  of  yours?  " 
said  T.  B. 

She  nodded. 

"  He  and  I  have  been  good  friends  for  many 
years,"  she  replied,  quietly ;  "  he  is  an  extraordinary 
man  with  extraordinary  qualities." 

"  By  the  way,"  said  T.  B.,  "  his  niece  was  staying 
with  you  a  few  nights  ago,  was  she  not  ?  " 

Lady  Constance  Dex  inclined  her  head. 

"  She  came  to  a  ball  I  was  giving,  and  stayed 
the  night,"  she  said.  "  I  motored  back  to  Great 
Bradley  after  the  dance,  so  that  I  have  not  seen 


92  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

her  since  I  bade  her  good  night.  I  am  going  along 
to  see  what  I  can  do  for  her,"  she  concluded.  She 
had  been  speaking  very  deliberately  and  calmly, 
but  now  it  was  with  an  effort  that  she  controlled 
her  voice. 

"  I  understand,  Mr.  Smith,"  she  said  suddenly, 
"  that  you  have  a  small  scent  bottle  which  is  my 
property;  Mr.  Farrington  wrote  to  me  about  it." 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"  It  was  found  in  the  area  of  Mr.  Farrington's 
house,"  he  said,  "  on  the  night  that  the  two  men  were 
killed  in  Brakely  Square." 

"  What  do  you  suggest?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  suggest  that  you  were  at  Mr.  Farrington's 
house  that  night,"  said  T.  B.  bluntly.  "  We  are 
speaking  now,  Lady  Constance,  as  frankly  as  it  is 
possible  for  man  and  woman  to  speak.  I  suggest 
that  you  were  in  the  house  at  the  time  of  the  shoot- 
ing, and  that  when  you  heard  the  shots  you  doubled 
back  into  the  house,  through  the  kitchen,  and  out 
again  by  a  back  way." 

He  saw  her  lips  press  tighter  together,  and  went 
on  carelessly: 

"  You  see,  I  was  not  satisfied  with  the  examina- 
tion I  made  that  night.  I  came  again  in  the  early 
hours  of  the  morning,  when  the  fog  had  risen  a  little, 
and  there  was  evidence  of  your  retirement  plainly 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  93 

to  be  seen.  The  back  of  the  house  opens  into  Brakely 
Mews,  and  I  find  there  are  four  motor-cars  located 
in  the  various  garages  in  that  interesting  thor- 
oughfare, none  of  which  correspond  with  the  tire 
tracks  which  I  was  able  to  pick  up.  My  theory  is 
that  you  heard  the  altercation  before  the  house, 
that  you  came  out  to  listen,  not  to  make  your  escape, 
and  that  when  you  had  satisfied  yourself  you  hurried 
back  to  the  mews,  got  into  the  car  which  was  waiting 
for  you,  and  drove  off  through  the  fog." 

"  You  are  quite  a  real  detective,"  she  drawled. 
"  Can  you  tell  me  anything  more  ?  " 

"  Save  that  you  drove  yourself  and  that  the  car 
was  a  two-seater,  with  a  self -starting  arrange- 
ment, I  can  tell  you  nothing."  She  laughed. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  all  the  way  to  Great 
Bradley  making  inquiries,"  she  mocked  him. 
"  Everybody  there  knows  I  drive  a  car,  and  every- 
body who  takes  the  trouble  to  find  out  will  learn 
that  it  is  such  a  car  as  you  describe." 

"  But  I  have  not  taken  that  trouble,"  said  T.  B. 
with  a  smile.  "  I  am  curious  to  know,  Lady  Con- 
stance, what  you  were  doing  in  the  house  at  that 
time.  I  do  not  for  one  moment  suspect  that  you 
shot  these  men;  indeed,  I  have  plenty  of  evidence 
that  the  shots  were  fired  from  some  other  place 
than  the  area." 


94  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Suppose  I  say,"  she  countered,  "  that  I  was 
giving  a  party  that  night,  that  I  did  not  leave  my 
house." 

"If  you  said  that,"  he  interrupted,  " you  would 
be  contradicting  something  you  have  already  said; 
namely,  that  you  did  leave  the  house,  a  journey  in 
the  middle  of  the  night  as  far  as  I  can  gather,  and 
evidently  one  which  was  of  considerable  moment." 

She  looked  past  him  out  of  the  window,  her  face 
set,  her  brows  knit  in  a  thoughtful  frown. 

"  I  can  tell  you  a  lot  of  things  that  possibly  you 
do  not  know,"  she  said,  turning  to  him  suddenly. 
"  I  can  explain  my  return  to  Great  Bradley  very 
simply.  There  is  a  friend  of  mine,  or  rather  a 
friend  of  my  friend,"  she  corrected  herself,  "  who 
has  recently  returned  from  West  Africa.  I  received 
news  that  he  had  gone  to  Great  Bradley  to  carry 
a  message  from  some  one  who  was  very  dear  to  me." 

There  was  a  little  tremor  in  her  voice,  and,  per- 
fect actress  as  she  might  be,  thought  T.  B.,  there  was 
little  doubt  that  here  she  was  speaking  the  truth. 

"  It  was  necessary  for  me  that  I  should  not  miss 
this  visitor,"  said  Lady  Constance,  quietly,  "  though 
I  do  not  wish  to  make  capital  out  of  that  happening." 

"  I  must  again  interrupt  you,"  said  T.  B.  easily. 
"  The  person  you  are  referring  to  wras  Dr.  Thomas 
Goldworthy,  who  has  recently  returned  from  an 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  95 

expedition  organized  by  the  London  School  of 
Tropical  Medicine,  in  Congoland;  but  your  story- 
does  not  quite  tally  with  the  known  fact  that  Dr. 
Goldworthy  arrived  in  Great  Bradley  the  night 
before  your  party,  and  you  interviewed  him  then. 
He  brought  with  him  a  wooden  box  which  he  had 
collected  at  the  Custom  House,  store  at  the  East 
India  Docks.  An  attempt  was  made  by  two  bur- 
glars to  obtain  possession  of  that  box  and  its  con- 
tents, a  fact  that  interested  me  considerably,  since 
a  friend  of  mine  is  engaged  upon  that  somewhat 
mysterious  case  of  attempted  burglary.  But  that 
is  confusing  the  issue.  These  are  the  facts."  He 
tapped  the  table  slowly  as  he  enumerated  them. 
"  Dr.  Goldworthy  brought  this  box  to  Great  Bradley, 
telegraphed  to  you  that  he  was  coming,  and  you 
interviewed  him.  It  was  subsequent  to  the  inter- 
view that  you  returned  to  London  for  your  party. 
Really,  Lady  Constance,  your  memory  is  rather 
bad." 

She  faced  him  suddenly  resolute,  defiant. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  asked.  "  You 
do  not  accuse  me  of  the  murder  of  your  two  friends ; 
you  cannot  even  accuse  me  of  the  attempt  on  Mr. 
Farrington.  You  know  so  much  of  my  history," 
she  went  on,  speaking  rapidly,  "  that  you  may  as 
well  know  more.  Years  ago,  Mr.  Smith,  I  was 


96  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

engaged  to  a  man,  and  we  were  passionately  fond 
of  one  another.  His  name  was  George  Doughton." 

"  The  explorer,"  nodded  T.  B. 

"  He  went  abroad,"  she  continued,  "  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly,  breaking  off  our  engagement  for 
no  reason  that  I  could  ascertain,  and  all  my  letters 
to  him,  all  my  telegrams,  and  every  effort  I  made 
to  get  in  touch  with  him  during  the  time  he  was  in 
Africa  were  without  avail.  For  four  years  I  had 
no  communication  from  him,  no  explanation  of 
his  extraordinary  behaviour,  and  then  suddenly  I 
received  news  of  his  death.  At  first  it  was  thought 
he  had  died  as  a  result  of  fever,  but  Dr.  Gold  worthy 
who  came  to  see  me  convinced  me  that  George 
Doughton  was  poisoned  by  somebody  who  was 
interested  in  his  death." 

Her  voice  trembled,  but  with  an  effort  she  re- 
covered herself. 

"  All  these  years  I  have  not  forgotten  him,  his 
face  has  never  left  my  mind,  he  has  been  as 
precious  to  me  as  though  he  were  by  my  side  in 
the  flesh.  Love  dies  very  hard  in  women  of  my  age, 
Mr.  Smith,"  she  said,  "  and  love  injured  and  out- 
raged as  mine  has  been  developed  all  the  tiger 
passion  which  women  can  nurture.  I  have  learnt 
for  the  first  time  why  George  Doughton  went  out 
to  his  death.  He  used  to  tell  me,"  she  said,  as  she 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  97 

rose  from  her  chair,  and  paced  the  room  slowly, 
"  that  when  you  are  shooting  wild  beasts  you  should 
always  shoot  the  female  of  the  species  first,  because 
if  she  is  left  to  the  last  she  will  avenge  her 
slaughtered  mate.  There  is  a  terrible  time  coming 
for  somebody,"  she  said,  speaking  deliberately. 

"For  whom?"  asked  T.  B. 

She  smiled. 

"  I  think  you  know  too  much  already,  Mr. 
Smith,"  she  said ;  "  you  must  find  out  all  the 
rest  in  your  own  inimitable  way;  so  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  you  must  leave  me  to  work  out  my 
plan  of  vengeance.  That  sounds  horribly  melo- 
dramatic, but  I  am  just  as  horribly  in  earnest,  as 
you  shall  learn.  They  took  George  Doughton  from 
me  and  they  murdered  him;  the  man  who  did  this 
was  Montague  Fallock,  and  I  am  perhaps  the  only 
person  in  the  world  who  has  met  Montague  Fallock 
in  life  and  have  known  him  to  be  what  he  is." 

She  would  say  no  more,  and  T.  B.  was  too  cautious 
a  man  to  force  the  pace  at  this  particular  moment. 
He  saw  her  to  the  door,  where  her  beautiful  limou- 
sine was  awaiting  her. 

"  I  hope  to  meet  you  again  very  soon,  Lady 
Constance." 

"  Without  a  warrant?  "  she  smiled. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  will  be  with  a  warrant,"  he 


98  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

said,  quietly,  "  unless  it  is  for  your  friend  Fallock." 

He  stood  in  the  hall  and  watched  the  car  dis- 
appear swiftly  round  the  corner  of  the  square. 
Scarcely  was  it  out  of  sight  than  from  the  little 
thoroughfare  which  leads  from  the  mews  at  the 
back  of  the  houses  shot  a  motor-cyclist  who  followed 
in  the  same  direction  as  the  car  had  taken. 

T.  B.  nodded  approvingly;  he  was  leaving 
nothing  to  chance.  Lady  Constance  Dex  would 
not  be  left  day  or  night  free  from  observation. 

"  And  she  did  not  mention  Farrington !  "  he  said 
to  himself,  as  he  mounted  the  stairs.  "  One  would 
almost  think  he  was  alive." 

It  was  nine  o'clock  that  evening  when  the  little 
two-seated  motor-car  which  Lady  Constance  drove 
so  deftly  came  spinning  along  the  broad  road 
which  runs  into  Great  Bradley,  skirted  the  town 
by  a  side  road  and  gained  the  great  rambling  rectory 
which  stood  apart  from  the  little  town  in  its  own 
beautiful  grounds.  She  sprang  lightly  out  of  the 
car. 

The  noise  of  the  wheels  upon  the  gravel  walk 
had  brought  a  servant  to  the  door,  and  she  brushed 
past  the  serving  man  without  a  word;  ran  upstairs 
to  her  own  room  and  closed  and  locked  the  door 
behind  her  before  she  switched  on  the  electric 
light.  The  electric  light  was  an  unusual  possession 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  99 

in  so  small  a  town,  but  she  owed  its  presence  in 
the  house  to  her  friendship  with  that  extraordinary 
man  who  was  the  occupant  of  the  Secret  House. 

Three  miles  away,  out  of  sight  of  the  rectory  in 
a  fold  of  the  hill  was  this  great  gaunt  building, 
erected,  so  popular  gossip  said,  by  one  who  had 
been  crossed  in  love  and  desired  to  live  the  life 
of  a  recluse,  a  desire  which  was  respected  by  the 
superstitious  town-folk  of  Great  Bradley.  The 
Secret  House  had  been  built  in  the  hollow  which 
was  known  locally  as  "  Murderers'  Valley,"  a  pretty 
little  glen  which  many  years  before  had  been  the 
scene  of  an  outrageous  crime.  The  house  added 
to,  rather  than  detracted  from,  the  reputation  of 
the  glen;  no  man  saw  the  occupant  of  the  Secret 
House;  his  secretary  and  his  two  Italian  servants 
came  frequently  to  Great  Bradley  to  make  their 
purchases ;  now  and  again  his  closed  car  would  whizz 
through  the  streets;  and  Great  Bradley,  speculating 
as  to  the  identity  of  its  owner,  could  do  no  more 
than  hope  that  one  of  these  fine  days  a  wheel  would 
come  off  that  closed  car  and  its  occupant  be  forced 
to  disclose  himself. 

But  in  the  main  the  town  was  content  to  allow 
the  eccentric  owner  of  the  Secret  House  all  the 
privacy  he  desired.  He  might  do  things  which 
were  unheard  of,  as  indeed  he  did,  and  Great  Bradley, 


ioo  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

standing  aloof,  was  content  to  thank  God  that  it 
was  not  cast  in  the  same  bizarre  mould  as  this 
wealthy  unknown,  and  took  comfort  from  the 
reflection. 

For  he  did  many  curious  things.  He  had  a  power 
house  of  his  own;  you  could  see  the  chimney  show- 
ing over  Wadleigh  Copse,  with  dynamos  of  enormous 
power  which  generated  all  that  was  necessary  for 
lighting  and  heating  the  big  house. 

There  were  honest  British  working  men  in  Great 
Bradley  who  spoke  bitterly  of  the  owner's  prefer- 
ence for  foreign  labour,  and  it  was  a  fact  that  the 
men  engaged  in  the  electrical  works  were  without 
exception  of  foreign  origin.  They  had  their  quar- 
ters and  lived  peacefully  apart,  neither  offering  nor 
desiring  the  confidence  of  their  fellow-townsmen. 
They  were,  in  fact,  frugal  people  of  the  Latin  race 
who  had  no  other  wish  than  to  work  hard  and  to 
save  as  much  of  their  salaries  as  was  possible  in 
order  that  at  some  future  date  they  might  return 
to  their  beloved  Italy,  and  live  in  peace  with  the 
world;  they  were  well  paid  for  their  discretion,  a 
sufficient  reason  for  its  continuance. 

Lady  Constance  Dex  had  been  fortunate  in  that 
she  had  secured  one  of  the  few  favours  which  the 
Secret  House  had  shown  to  the  town.  An  under- 
ground cable  had  been  laid  to  her  house,  and  she 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  101 

alone  of  all  human  beings  in  the  world  was  privi- 
leged to  enter  the  home  of  this  mysterious  stranger 
without  challenge. 

She  busied  herself  for  some  time  changing  her 
dress  and  removing  the  signs  of  her  hasty  journey 
from  London.  Her  maid  brought  her  dinner  on 
a  tray,  and  when  she  had  finished  she  went  again 
into  her  boudoir,  and  opening  the  drawer  of  her 
bureau  she  took  out  a  slender-barrelled  revolver. 
She  looked  at  it  for  some  time,  carefully  examined 
the  chambers  and  into  each  dropped  a  nickel- 
tipped  cartridge.  She  snapped  back  the  hinged 
chamber  and  slipped  the  pistol  into  a  pocket  of  her 
woollen  cloak.  She  locked  the  bureau  again  and 
went  out  through  the  door  and  down  the  stairs. 
Her  car  was  still  waiting,  but  she  turned  to  the 
servant  who  stood  deferentially  by  the  door. 

"  Have  the  car  put  in  the  garage,"  she  said ;  "  I 
am  going  to  see  Mrs.  Jackson." 

"  Very  good,  my  lady,"  said  the  man. 


CHAPTER  IX 

TB.  SMITH  came  down  to  Great  Bradley 
.  with  only  one  object  in  view.  He  knew 
that  the  solution  to  the  mystery,  not  only  of  Far- 
rington's  disappearance,  but  possibly  the  identity 
of  the  mysterious  Mr.  Fallock,  was  to  be  found 
rather  in  this  small  town  than  in  the  metropolis. 
Scotland  Yard  was  on  its  mettle.  Within  a  space 
of  seven  days  there  had  been  two  murders,  a  mys- 
terious shooting,  and  a  suicide  so  full  of  extraor- 
dinary features  as  to  suggest  foul  play,  without 
the  police  being  in  the  position  to  offer  a  curious  and 
indignant  public  the  slightest  resemblance  of  a  clue. 
This,  following  as  it  had  upon  a  shooting  affray 
at  the  Docks,  had  brought  Scotland  Yard  to  a  posi- 
tion of  defence. 

"  There  are  some  rotten  things  being  said  about 
us,"  said  the  Chief  Commissioner  on  the  morning 
of  T.  B.'s  departure.  He  threw  a  paper  across  the 

table,  and  T.  B.  picked  it  up  with  an  enigmatic 

102 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  103 

smile.  He  read  the  flaring  column  in  which  the 
intelligence  of  the  police  department  was  called 
into  question,  without  a  word,  and  handed  the  paper 
back  to  his  chief. 

"  I  think  we  might  solve  all  these  mysteries 
in  one  swoop,"  he  said.  "  I  am  going  down  to-day 
to  inspect  the  Secret  House — that  is  where  one 
end  of  the  solution  lies." 

The  Chief  Commissioner  looked  interested. 

"  It  is  very  curious  that  you  should  be  talking 
about  that,"  he  said.  "  I  have  had  a  report  this 
morning  from  the  chief  constable  of  the  county  on 
that  extraordinary  menage." 

"  And  what  has  he  to  say  about  it?  " 

Sir  Gordon  Billings  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It  is  one  of  those  vague  reports  which  chief 
constables  are  in  the  habit  of  furnishing,"  he  said, 
drily.  "  Apparently  the  owner  is  an  American, 
an  invalid,  and  is  eccentric.  More  than  this — 
and  this  will  surprise  you — he  has  been  certified 
by  competent  medical  authorities  as  being  insane." 

"  Insane?"  T.  B.  repeated  in  surprise. 

"Insane,"  nodded  the  chief;  "and  he  has  all 
the  privileges  which  the  Lunacy  Act  confers  upon 
a  man.  That  is  rather  a  facer." 

T.  B.  looked  thoughtful. 

"  I  had  a  dim  idea  that  I  might  possibly  discover 


104  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

in  the  occupant  one  who  was,  at  any  rate,  a  close 
relative  to  Fallock." 

'  You  are  doomed  to  disappointment,"  smiled 
the  chief;  "there  is  no  doubt  about  that.  I  have 
had  all  the  papers  up.  The  man  was  certified 
insane  by  two  eminent  specialists,  and  is  under  the 
care  of  a  doctor  who  lives  on  the  premises,  and  who 
also  acts  as  secretary  to  this  Mr.  Moole.  The  secret 
of  the  Secret  House  is  pretty  clear;  it  is  a  private 
lunatic  asylum, — that,  and  nothing  else." 

T.  B.  thought  for  a  while. 

"At  any  rate  no  harm  can  be  done  by  inter- 
viewing this  cloistered  Mr.  Moole,  or  by  inspecting 
the  house,"  he  said. 

He  arrived  in  Great  Bradley  in  the  early  part 
of  the  afternoon,  and  drove  straight  away  to  the 
Secret  House.  The  flyman  put  him  down  at  some 
distance  from  the  big  entrance  gate,  and  he  made  a 
careful  and  cautious  reconnaissance  of  the  vicinity. 
The  house  was  a  notable  one.  It  made  no  pre- 
tence at  architectural  beauty,  standing  back  from 
the  road,  and  in  the  very  centre  of  a  fairly  uncul- 
tivated patch  of  ground.  All  that  afternoon  he 
measured  and  observed  the  peculiarities  of  the 
approach,  the  lie  of  the  ground,  the  entrances, 
and  the  exits,  and  had  obtained  too  a  cautious  and 
careful  observation  of  the  great  electrical  power 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  105 

house,  which  stood  in  a  clump  of  trees  about  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  house  itself. 

The  next  morning  he  paid  a  more  open  visit. 
This  time  his  fly  put  him  down  at  the  gateway  of 
the  house,  and  he  moved  slowly  up  the  gravel 
pathway  to  the  big  front  entrance  door.  He 
glanced  at  the  tip  of  the  power  house  chimney  which 
showed  over  the  trees,  and  shook  his  head  in  some 
doubt.  He  had  furtively  inspected  the  enormous 
plant  which  the  eccentric  owner  of  the  Secret  House 
had  found  it  necessary  to  lay  down. 

"  Big  enough  to  run  an  electric  railway,"  was 
his  mental  comment.  He  had  seen,  too,  the  one- 
eyed  engineer,  a  saturnine  man  with  a  disfiguring  scar 
down  one  side  of  his  face,  and  a  trick  of  showing 
his  teeth  on  one  side  of  his  mouth  when  he  smiled. 

T.  B.  would  have  pursued  his  investigations 
further,  but  suddenly  he  had  felt  something  click 
under  his  feet,  as  he  stood  peering  in  at  the  window, 
and  instantly  a  gong  had  clanged,  and  a  shutter 
dropped  noiselessly  behind  the  window,  cutting  off 
all  further  view. 

T.  B.  had  retired  hastily  and  had  cleared  the 
gates  just  before  they  swung  to,  obviously  operated 
by  somebody  in  the  power  house. 

His  present  visit  was  less  furtive  and  it  was  in 
broad  daylight,  with  two  detectives  ostentatiously 


io6  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

posted  at  the  gates,  that  he  made  his  call — for  he 
took  no  unnecessary  risks. 

He  walked  up  the  four  broad  marble  steps  to 
the  portico  of  the  house,  and  wiped  his  feet  upon 
a  curious  metal  mat  as  he  pressed  the  bell.  The 
door  itself  was  half  hidden  by  a  hanging  curtain, 
such  as  one  may  see  screening  the  halls  of  surburban 
houses,  made  up  of  brightly  coloured  beads  or 
lengths  of  bamboo.  In  this  case  it  was  made  by 
suspending  thousands  of  steel  beads  upon  fine  wire 
strings  from  a  rod  above  the  door.  It  gave  the 
impression  that  the  entrance  itself  was  of  steel, 
but  when  in  answer  to  his  summons  the  door  was 
opened,  the  chick  looped  itself  up  on  either  side  in 
the  manner  of  a  stage  curtain,  and  it  seemed  to 
work  automatically  on  the  opening  of  the  door. 

There  stood  in  the  entrance  a  tall  man,  with  a 
broad  white  face  and  expressionless  eyes.  He  was 
dressed  soberly  in  black,  and  had  the  restrained  and 
deferential  attitude  of  the  superior  man-servant. 

"  I  am  Mr.  Smith,  of  Scotland  Yard,"  said  T.  B. 
briefly,  "  and  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Moole." 

The  man  in  black  looked  dubious. 

"Will  you  come  in?"  he  asked,  and  T.  B.  was 
shown  into  a  large  comfortably  furnished  sitting- 
room. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  can't  see  Mr.  Moole,"  said  the 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  107 

man,  as  he  closed  the  door  behind  him ;  "  he  is, 
as  you  probably  know,  a  partial  invalid,  but  if  there 
is  anything  I  can  do " 

"You  can  take  me  to  Mr.  Moole,"  said  T.  B. 
with  a  smile;  "  short  of  that — nothing." 

The  man  hesitated. 

"  If  you  insist,"  he  began. 

The  detective  nodded. 

"  I  am  his  secretary  and  his  doctor — Doctor 
Fall,"  the  other  introduced  himself,  "  and  it  may 
mean  trouble  for  me — perhaps  you  will  tell  me  your 
business? " 

"  My  business  is  with  Mr.  Moole." 

The  doctor  bowed. 

"  Come  this  way,"  he  said,  and  he  led  the  detec- 
tive across  the  broad  hall.  He  opened  a  plain 
door,  and  disclosed  a  small  lift,  standing  aside  for 
the  other  to  enter. 

"  After  you,"  said  T.  B.  politely. 

Dr.  Fall  smiled  and  entered,  and  T.  B.  Smith 
followed. 

The  lift  shot  swiftly  upward  and  came  to  a  rest 
at  the  third  floor. 

It  was  not  unlike  an  hotel,  thought  T.  B.,  in  the 
general  arrangement  of  the  place. 

Two  carpeted  corridors  ran  left  and  right,  and  the 
wall  before  him  was  punctured  with  doorways  at 


io8  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

regular  intervals.  His  guide  led  him  to  the  left, 
to  the  end  of  the  passage,  and  opened  the  big  rose- 
wood door  which  faced  him.  Inside  was  another 
door.  This  he  opened,  and  entered  a  big  apart- 
ment and  T.  B.  followed.  The  room  contained 
scarcely  any  furniture.  The  panelling  on  the  walls 
was  of  polished  myrtle;  a  square  of  deep  btfue 
carpet  of  heavy  pile  was  set  exactly  in  the  centre, 
and  upon  this  stood  a  silver  bedstead.  But  it  was 
not  the  furnishing  or  the  rich  little  gilt  table 
by  the  bedside  or  the  hanging  electrolier  which 
attracted  T.  B.'s  attention;  rather  his  eyes  fell 
instantly  upon  the  man  on  the  bed. 

A  man  with  an  odd  yellow  face,  who,  with  his 
steady  unwinking  eyes  might  have  been  a  figure 
of  wax  save  for  the  regular  rise  and  fall  of  his 
breast,  and  the  spasmodic  twitching  of  his  lips. 
T.  B.  judged  him  to  be  somewhere  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  seventy,  and,  if  anything,  older.  His  face 
was  without  expression;  his  eyes,  which  turned  upon 
the  intruder,  were  bright  and  beady. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Moole,"  said  the  suave  secretary. 
"  I  am  afraid  if  you  talk  to  him  you  will  get  little 
in  the  way  of  information." 

T.  B.  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  bed  and  looked 
down.  He  nodded  his  head  in  greeting,  but  the 
other  made  no  response. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  109 

"  How  are  you,  Mr.  Moole  ?  "  said  T.  B.  gently. 
"  I  have  come  down  from  London  to  see  you." 

There  was  still  no  response  from  the  shrunken 
figure  under  the  bedclothes. 

"What  is  your  name?"  asked  T.  B.  after  a 
while. 

For  an  instant  a  gleam  of  intelligence  came  to 
the  eyes  of  the  wreck.  His  mouth  opened  tremu- 
lously and  a  husky  voice  answered  him. 

"  Jim  Moole,"  it  croaked,  "  poor  old  Jim  Moole; 
ain't  done  nobody  harm." 

Then  his  eyes  turned  fearfully  to  the  man  at 
T.  B.'s  side;  the  old  lips  came  tightly  together 
and  no  further  encouragement  from  T.  B.  could 
make  him  speak  again. 

A  little  later  T.  B.  was  ushered  out  of  the  room. 

"  You  agree  with  me,"  said  the  doctor  smoothly, 
"  Mr.  Moole  is  not  in  a  position  to  carry  on  a  very 
long  conversation." 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"  I  quite  agree,"  he  said,  pleasantly.  "  An 
American  millionaire — Mr.  Moole — is  he  not  ?  " 

Dr.  Fall  inclined  his  head.  His  black  eyes  never 
left  T.  B.'s  face. 

"  An  American  millionaire,"  he  repeated. 

"  He  does  not  talk  like  an  American,"  said  T.  B. ; 
"  even  making  allowances  that  one  must  for  his 


I io  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

mental  condition,  there  is  no  inducement  to  accept 
the  phenomenon." 

"  Which  phenomenon  ?  "  asked  the  other,  quickly. 

"  That  which  causes  an  American  millionaire, 
a  man  probably  of  some  refinement  and  education, 
at  any  rate  of  some  lingual  characteristics,  to  talk 
like  a  Somerset  farm  labourer." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  the  other  harshly. 

"Just  what  I  say,"  said  T.  B.  Smith;  "he  has 
the  burr  of  a  man  who  has  been  brought  up  in 
Somerset.  He  is  obviously  one  who  has  had  very 
little  education.  My  impression  of  him  does  not 
coincide  with  your  description." 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Smith,"  said  the  other,  quietly, 
"  that  you  have  had  very  little  acquaintance  with 
people  who  are  mentally  deficient,  otherwise  you 
would  know  that  those  unfortunate  fellow-creatures 
of  ours  who  are  so  afflicted  are  very  frequently  as 
unrecognizable  from  their  speech  as  from  their 
actions." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  lift  door,  but  T.  B.  declined 
its  service. 

"  I  would  rather  walk  down,"  he  said. 

He  wanted  to  be  better  acquainted  with  this 
house,  to  have  a  larger  knowledge  of  its  topography 
than  the  ascent  and  descent  by  means  of  an  electric 
lift  would  allow  him.  Dr.  Fall  offered  no  objection, 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  in 

and   led  the   way  down  the  red  carpeted   stairs. 

"  I  am  well  acquainted  with  people  of  unsound 
mind,"  T.  B.  went  on,  "  especially  that  section  of 
the  insane  whose  lunacy  takes  the  form  of  dropping 
their  aitches." 

"  You  are  being  sarcastic  at  my  expense,"  said 
the  other,  suddenly  turning  to  him  with  a  lowered 
brow.  "  I  think  it  is  only  right  to  tell  you  that, 
in  addition  to  being  Mr.  Moole's  secretary,  I  am 
a  doctor." 

"  That  is  also  no  news  to  me,"  smiled  T.  B. 
"  You  are  an  American  doctor  with  a  Pennsylvania 
degree.  You  came  to  England  in  eighteen  hundred 
and  ninety-six,  on  board  the  Lucania.  You  left 
New  York  hurriedly  as  the  result  of  some  scandal 
in  which  you  were  involved.  It  is,  in  fact,  much 
easier  to  trace  your  movements  since  the  date  of 
your  arrival  than  it  is  to  secure  exact  information 
concerning  Mr.  Moole,  who  is  apparently  quite 
unknown  to  the  American  Embassy." 

The  large  face  of  the  secretary  flushed  to  a  deep 
purple. 

"  You  are  possibly  exceeding  your  duty,"  he 
said,  gratingly,  "  in  recalling  a  happening  of  which 
I  was  but  an  innocent  victim." 

"  Possibly  I  am,"  agreed  T.  B. 

He  bowed  slightly  to  the  man,  and  descended 


H2  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

the  broad  steps  to  the  unkempt  lawn  in  front  of 
the  house.  He  was  joined  at  the  gate  by  the  two 
men  he  had  brought  down.  One  of  these  was  Ela. 

"  What  did  you  find  ?  "  asked  that  worthy  man. 

"  I  found  much  that  will  probably  be  useful  to 
us  in  the  future,"  said  T.  B.,  as  he  stepped  into 
the  fly,  followed  by  his  subordinate. 

He  turned  to  the  third  detective. 

"  You  had  better  wait  here,"  he  said,  "  and 
report  on  who  arrives  and  who  departs.  I  shall 
be  back  within  a  couple  of  hours." 

The  man  saluted,  and  the  fly  drove  off. 

"  I  have  one  more  call  to  make,"  said  T.  B. 
Smith,  "  and  I  had  better  make  that  alone,  I  think. 
Tell  the  flyman  to  drop  me  at  Little  Bradley 
Rectory." 

Lady  Constance  Dex  was  not  unprepared  for 
the  visit  of  the  detective.  She  had  seen  him  from 
the  window  of  her  room,  driving  past  the  rectory 
in  the  direction  of  the  Secret  House,  and  he  found 
her  expectantly  waiting  him  in  the  drawing-room. 

He  came  straight  to  the  heart  of  the  matter. 

"  I  have  just  been  to  visit  a  man  who  I  under- 
stand is  a  friend  of  yours,"  he  said. 

She  inclined  her  head. 

"  You  mean  Mr.  Moole  ?  " 

"That  is  the  man,"  said  the  cheerful  T.   B. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  113 

She  thought  for  a  long  time  before  she  spoke 
again.  She  was  evidently  making  up  her  mind 
as  to  how  much  she  would  tell  this  insistent  officer 
of  the  law. 

"  I  suppose  you  might  as  well  know  the  whole 
facts  of  the  case/'  she  said;  "if  you  will  sit  over 
there,  I  will  supplement  the  information  I  gave  you 
in  Brakely  Square  a  few  days  ago." 

T.  B.  seated  himself. 

"  I  am  certainly  a  visitor  to  the  Secret  House," 
she  said,  after  a  while.  She  did  not  look  at  the 
detective  as  she  spoke,  but  kept  her  gaze  fixed  upon 
the  window  and  the  garden  without. 

"  I  told  you  that  I  have  had  one  love  affair  in 
my  life;  that  affair,"  she  went  on  steadily,  "was 
with  George  Doughton;  you  probably  know  his 
son." 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"  It  was  a  case  of  love  at  first  sight.  George 
Doughton  was  a  widower,  a  good-natured,  easy- 
going, lovable  man.  He  was  a  brave  and  brilliant 
man  too,  famous  as  an  explorer  as  you  know.  I 
met  him  first  in  London;  he  introduced  me  to 
the  late  Mr.  Farrington,  who  was  a  friend  of  his, 
and  when  Mr.  Farrington  came  to  Great  Bradley 
and  took  a  house  here  for  the  summer,  George 
Doughton  came  down  as  his  guest,  and  I  got  to 


114  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

know  him  better  than  ever  I  had  known  any  human 
being  before  in  my  life." 

She  hesitated  again. 

"  We  were  lovers/'  she  went  on,  defiantly, — 
"  why  should  I  not  confess  to  an  experience  of 
which  I  am  proud  ? — and  our  marriage  was  to  have 
taken  place  on  the  very  day  he  sailed  for  West 
Africa.  George  Dough  ton  was  the  very  soul  of 
honour,  a  man  to  whom  the  breath  of  scandal  was 
as  a  desert  wind,  withering  and  terrible.  He  was 
never  in  sympathy  with  the  modern  spirit  of  our 
type,  was  old-fashioned  in  some  respects,  had  an 
immense  and  beautiful  conception  of  women  and 
their  purity,  and  carried  his  prejudices  against, 
what  we  call  smart  society,  to  such  an  extent  that, 
if  a  man  or  woman  of  his  set  was  divorced  in  cir- 
cumstances discreditable  to  themselves,  he  would 
cut  them  out  of  his  life." 

Her  voice  faltered,  and  she  seemed  to  find  diffi- 
culty in  continuing,  but  she  braced  herself  to  it. 

"  I  had  been  divorced,"  she  went  on,  in  a  low 
voice;  "  in  my  folly  I  had  been  guilty  of  an  indis- 
cretion which  was  sinless  as  it  was  foolish.  I  had 
married  a  cold,  rigid  and  remorseless  man  when  I 
was  little  more  than  a  child,  and  I  had  run  away 
from  him  with  one  who  was  never  more  to  me 
than  a  brother.  A  chivalrous,  kindly  soul  who 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  115 

paid  for  his  chivalry  dearly.  All  the  evidence 
looked  black  against  me,  and  my  husband  had  no 
difficulty  in  securing  a  divorce.  It  passed  into  the 
oblivion  of  forgotten  things,  yet  in  those  tender 
days  when  my  love  for  George  Doughton  grew  I 
lived  in  terror  least  a  breath  of  the  old  scandal 
should  be  revived.  I  had  reason  for  that  terror, 
as  I  will  tell  you.  I  was,  as  I  say,  engaged  to  be 
married.  Two  days  before  the  wedding  George 
Doughton  left  me  without  a  word  of  explanation. 
The  first  news  that  I  received  was  that  he  had 
sailed  for  Africa;  thereafter  I  never  heard  from 
him."  She  dropped  her  voice  until  she  was  hardly 
audible. 

T.  B.  preserved  a  sympathetic  silence.  It  was 
impossible  to  doubt  the  truth  of  all  she  was  saying, 
or  to  question  her  anguish.  Presently  she  spoke 
again. 

"  Mr.  Farrington  was  most  kind,  and  it  was  he 
who  introduced  me  to  Dr.  Fall." 

"  Why?  "  asked  T.  B.  quickly. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  never  understood  until  quite  lately,"  she 
said.  "  At  the  time  I  accepted  as  a  fact  that  Dr. 
Fall  had  large  interests  in  West  Africa,  and  would 
enable  me  to  get  into  communication  with  George 
Doughton.  I  clutched  at  straws,  so  to  speak;  I 


n6  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

became  a  constant  visitor  to  the  Secret  House,  the 
only  outside  visitor  that  extraordinary  domain  has 
ever  had  within  memory.  I  found  that  my  visits 
were  not  without  result.  I  was  enabled  to  trace  the 
movements  of  my  lover;  I  was  enabled,  too,  to 
send  letters  to  him  in  the  certainty  that  they  would 
reach  him.  I  have  reason  now  to  know  that  Mr. 
Farrington  had  another  object  in  introducing  me; 
he  wanted  me  kept  under  the  closest  observation 
lest  I  should  get  into  independent  communication 
with  George  Doughton.  That  is  all  the  story  so 
far  as  my  acquaintance  with  the  Secret  House  is 
concerned.  I  have  only  seen  Mr.  Moole  on  one 
occasion." 

"And  Farrington?"  asked  T.  B. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  have  never  seen  Mr.  Farrington  in  the  house," 
she  replied. 

"Or  Montague  Fallock?"  he  suggested. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  I  have  never  seen  Montague  Fallock,"  she  said 
slowly,  "  though  I  have  heard  from  him.  He,  too, 
knew  of  the  scandal ;  he  it  was  who  blackmailed  me 
in  the  days  of  my  courtship." 

"You  did  not  tell  me  about  that,"  said  T.  B. 

"  There  is  little  to  tell,"  she  said,  with  a  weary 
gesture;  "it  was  this  mysterious  blackmailer  who 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  117 

terrified  me,  and  to  whose  machinations  I  ascribe 
George  Doughton's  discovery,  for  now  I  know  that 
he  was  told  of  my  past,  and  was  told  by  Montague 
Fallock.  He  demanded  impossible  sums.  I  gave 
him  as  much  as  I  could,  almost  ruined  myself  to 
keep  this  blackmailer  at  bay,  but  all  to  no  pur- 
pose." 

She  rose  and  paced  the  room. 

"  I  have  not  finished  with  Montague  Fallock," 
she  said. 

She  turned  her  white  face  to  the  detective,  and 
he  saw  a  hard  gleam  in  her  eye. 

"  There  is  much  that  I  could  tell  you,  Mr.  Smith, 
which  would  enable  you  perhaps  to  bring  to  justice 
the  most  dastardly  villain  that  has  ever  walked 
the  earth." 

"  May  I  suggest,"  said  T.  B.  gently,  "  that  you 
place  me  in  possession  of  those  facts?" 

She  smiled,  implying  a  negative. 

"  I  have  my  own  plans  for  avenging  the  murder 
of  my  lover  and  the  ruin  of  my  life,"  she  said  hardly. 
"  When  Montague  Fallock  dies,  I  would  rather  he 
died  by  my  hand." 


CHAPTER  X 

COUNT  POLTAVO,  a  busy  man  of  affairs  in 
these  days,  walked  up  the  stairs  of  the  big 
block  of  flats  in  which  he  had  his  modest  dwelling 
with  a  little  smile  upon  his  lips  and  a  sense  of 
cheer  in  his  heart.  There  were  many  reasons  why 
this  broken  adventurer,  who  had  arrived  in  London 
only  a  few  months  before  with  little  more  than 
his  magnificent  wardrobe,  should  feel  happy.  He 
had  been  admitted  suddenly  into  the  circle  of  the 
elect.  Introductions  had  been  found  which  paved 
a  way  for  further  introductions.  He  was  the 
confidential  adviser  of  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
London,  was  the  trusted  of  aristocrats.  If  there 
was  a  wrathful  and  suspicious  young  newspaper 
man  obviously  and  undisguisedly  thirsting  for  his 
blood  that  was  not  a  matter  which  greatly  affected 
the  Count.  It  had  been  his  good  fortune  to  surprise 
the  secret  of  the  late  Mr.  Farrington ;  by  the  merest 
of  chances  he  had  happened  upon  the  true  financial 
position  of  this  alleged  millionaire;  had  discovered 

118 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  119 

him  to  be  a  swindler  and  in  league,  so  he  guessed, 
with  the  mysterious  Montague  Fallock.  All  this 
fine  position  which  Farrington  had  built  up  was  a 
veritable  house  of  cards.  It  remained  now  for  the 
Count  to  discover  how  far  Farrington's  affection 
for  his  niece  had  stayed  his  hand  in  his  predatory 
raid  upon  the  cash  balances  of  his  friends  and  rela- 
tives. Anyway,  the  Count  thought,  as  he  fitted  a 
tiny  key  into  the  lock  of  his  flat,  he  was  in  a 
commanding  position.  He  had  all  the  winning 
cards  in  his  hand,  and  if  the  prizes  included  so 
delectable  a  reward  as  Doris  Gray  might  be,  the 
Count,  a  sentimental  if  unscrupulous  man,  was 
perfectly  satisfied.  He  walked  through  his  sitting- 
room  to  the  bedroom  beyond  and  stood  for  a 
moment  before  the  long  mirror.  It  was  a  trick 
of  Count  Poltavo  to  commune  with  himself,  and 
when  he  was  rallied  on  this  practice,  suggestive  of 
vanity  to  the  uninitated,  he  confirmed  rather  than 
disabused  that  criticism  by  protesting  that  there 
was  none  whom  he  could  trust  with  such  absence 
of  fear  of  consequence  as  his  own  bright  worthy 
image. 

He  had  reason  for  the  smile  which  curved  his 
thin  lips.  Every  day  he  was  making  progress 
which  placed  Doris  Gray  more  and  more,  if  not  in 
his  power,  at  least  under  his  influence. 


120  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

He  lived  alone  without  any  servants  save  for  the 
old  woman  who  came  every  morning  to  tidy  his 
flat,  and  when  the  bell  rang  as  he  stood  before  the 
mirror,  he  answered  it  himself  without  any  thought 
as  to  the  importance  of  the  summons.  For  Count 
Poltavo  was  not  above  taking  in  the  milk  or  chaffer- 
ing with  tradesmen  over  the  quality  of  a  cabbage. 
It  was  necessary  that  he  must  jealously  husband  his 
slender  resources  until  fate  placed  him  in  possession 
of  a  larger  and  a  more  generous  fortune  than  that 
which  he  now  possessed.  He  opened  the  door,  and 
took  a  step  back,  then  with  a  little  bow : 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Doughton,"  he  said. 

Frank  Doughton  strode  across  the  tiny  hall, 
waited  until  the  Count  had  closed  the  door,  and 
opened  another,  ushering  the  visitor  into  his  study. 

"  To  what  am  I  indebted  for  the  honour  of  this 
visit  ? "  asked  Poltavo,  as  he  pushed  forward  a 
chair. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  you  on  a  matter  which  deeply 
affects  you  and  me,"  said  the  young  man  briskly, 
even  rudely. 

Count  Poltavo  inclined  his  head.  He  recognized 
all  the  disagreeable  portents,  but  he  was  not  in  any 
way  abashed  or  afraid.  He  had  had  experience 
of  many  situations  less  pleasant  than  this  threatened 
to  be  and  had  played  his  part  worthily. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  12-1 

"  I  can  give  you  exactly  a  quarter  of  an  hour," 
he  said,  looking  at  his  watch;  "  at  the  end  of  that 
period  I  must  leave  for  Brakely  Square.  You 
understand  there  is  to  be  a  reading  of  the  will  of  our 
departed  friend,  and " 

"  I  know  all  about  that,"  interrupted  Frank, 
roughly;  "you  are  not  the  only  person  who  has 
been  invited  to  that  pleasant  function." 

"  You  also?  "  The  Count  was  a  little  surprised. 
He  himself  went  as  friend  and  adviser  to  the  bereaved 
girl,  a  position  which  a  certain  letter  had  secured  for 
him.  That  letter  in  three  brief  lines  had  told  the 
girl  to  trust  Poltavo.  It  was  about  this  letter  that 
Frank  had  come,  and  he  came  straight  to  the  point. 

"  Count  Poltavo,"  he  said,  "  the  day  after  Mr. 
Farrington's  disappearance  a  messenger  brought  a 
letter  for  Miss  Gray." 

Poltavo  nodded. 

"  So  I  understand,"  he  said,  smoothly. 

"  So  you  know,  "  challenged  the  other,  "  because  it 
concerned  you.  It  was  a  letter  in  which  Doris 
was  told  to  trust  you  absolutely;  it  was  a  letter 
also  which  gave  her  hope  that  the  man  whose  body 
was  found  in  the  Thames  was  not  that  of  Farrington." 

Poltavo  frowned. 

"  That  is  not  a  view  that  has  been  accepted  by 
the  authorities,"  he  said  quickly.  "  The  jury  had 


122  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

no  doubt  that  this  was  the  body  of  Mr.  Farrington, 
and  brought  in  a  verdict  accordingly." 

Frank  nodded. 

"  What  a  jury  thinks  and  what  Scotland  Yard 
thinks/'  he  said,  drily,  "  are  not  always  in  agree- 
ment. As  a  result  of  that  letter,"  he  went  on, 
"  Miss  Gray  has  reposed  a  great  deal  of  trust  in  you, 
Count,  and  day  by  day  my  efforts  to  serve  her  have 
been  made  more  difficult  by  her  attitude.  I  am  a 
plain-speaking  Englishman,  and  I  am  coming  to 
the  point,  right  now," — he  thumped  the  table: 
"  Doris  Gray's  mind  is  becoming  poisoned  against 
one  who  has  no  other  object  in  life  than  to  serve  her 
faithfully." 

Count  Poltavo  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled. 

"  My  dear  young  man,"  he  said,  smoothly,  "  you 
do  not  come  to  me,  I  trust,  to  act  as  your  agent  in 
order  to  induce  Miss  Gray  to  take  any  other  view 
of  you  than  she  does.  Because  if  you  do,"  he  went 
on  suavely,  "  I  am  afraid  that  I  cannot  help  you 
yery  much.  There  is  an  axiom  in  the  English 
language  to  which  I  subscribe  most  thoroughly, 
and  it  is  that  '  all  is  fair  in  love  and  war.' ' 

"  In  love  ?  "  repeated  Frank,  looking  the  other 
straight  in  the  eyes. 

"  In  love,"  the  Count  asserted,  with  a  nod  of  his 
head,  "  it  is  not  the  privilege  of  any  human  being 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  123 

to  monopolize  in  his  heart  all  the  love  in  the  world, 
or  to  say  this  thing  I  love  and  none  other  shall  love 
it.  Those  qualities  in  Miss  Gray  which  are  so 
adorable  to  you  are  equally  adorable  to  me." 

He  spread  out  his  hands  in  deprecation. 

"  It  is  a  pity,"  he  said,  with  his  little  smile, 
"  and  I  would  do  anything  to  avoid  an  unpleasant 
outcome  to  our  rivalry.  It  is  a  fact  that  cannot 
be  gainsaid  that  such  a  rivalry  exists.  I  have 
reason  to  know  that  the  late  Mr.  Farrington  had 
certain  views  concerning  his  niece  and  ward,  and 
I  flatter  myself  that  those  views  were  immensely 
favourable  to  me." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Frank,  harshly. 

The  Count  shrugged  again. 

"  I  had  a  little  conversation  with  Mr.  Farrington 
in  the  course  of  which  he  informed  me  that  he  would 
like  nothing  better  than  to  see  the  future  of  Doris 
assured  in  my  hands." 

Frank  went  white. 

"  That  is  a  lie,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  The  views 
of  Mr.  Farrington  were  as  well  known  to  me  as  they 
are  to  you — better,  if  that  is  your  interpretation  of 
them." 

"And  they  were?"  asked  the  Count,  curiously. 

"  I  decline  to  discuss  the  matter  with  you/'  said 
Frank.  "  I  want  only  to  tell  you  this.  If  by 


124  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

chance  I  discover  that  you  are  working  against  me 
by  your  lies  or  your  cunning,  I  will  make  you  very 
sorry  that  you  ever  came  into  my  life." 

"  Allow  me  to  show  you  the  door,"  said  Count 
Poltavo.  "  People  of  my  race  and  of  my  family 
are  not  usually  threatened  with  impunity." 

"  Your  race  I  pretty  well  know,"  said  Frank, 
coolly;  "  your  family  is  a  little  more  obscure.  If  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  go  any  farther  into  the  matter, 
and  if  I  am  so  curious  that  I  am  anxious  for  infor- 
mation, I  shall  know  where  to  apply." 

"And  where  will  that  be?"  asked  the  Count 
softly,  his  hand  upon  the  door. 

"  To  the  Governor  of  Alexandrovski  Prison," 
said  Frank. 

The  Count  closed  the  door  behind  his  visitor, 
and  stood  for  some  moments  in  thought. 

It  was  a  depressed  little  party  which  assembled 
an  hour  later  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  Brakely 
Square  house.  To  the  Count's  annoyance,  Frank 
was  one  of  these,  and  he  had  contrived  to  secure  a 
place  near  the  sad- faced  girl  and  engage  her  in  con- 
versation. The  Couni  did  not  deem  it  advisable 
at  this  particular  moment  to  make  any  attempt  to 
separate  them :  he  was  content  to  wait. 

T.  B.  Smith  was  there. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  125 

He  had  secured  an  invitation  by  the  simple  process 
of  informing  those  responsible  for  the  arrangements 
that  if  that  courtesy  was  not  offered  to  him  he  would 
come  in  another  capacity  than  that  of  a  friend. 

The  senior  partner  of  Messrs.  Debenham  &  Tree, 
the  great  city  lawyers,  was  also  present,  seated  at  a 
table  with  his  clerk,  on  which  paper  and  ink  was 
placed,  and  where  too,  under  the  watchful  eyes 
of  his  assistant,  was  a  bulky  envelope  heavily 
sealed. 

There  were  many  people  present  to  whom  the 
reading  of  this  will  would  be  a  matter  of  the  greatest 
moment.  Farrington  had  left  no  private  debts. 
Whatever  plight  the  shareholders  of  the  company 
might  be  in,  he  himself,  so  far  as  his  personal  fortune 
was  concerned,  was  certainly  solvent. 

T.  B.'s  inquiries  had  revealed,  to  his  great  aston- 
ishment, that  the  girl's  fortune  was  adequately 
secured.  Much  of  the  contents  of  the  will,  which 
was  to  astonish  at  least  three  people  that  day,  was 
known  to  T.  B.  Smith,  and  he  had  pursued  his 
investigations  to  the  end  of  confirming  much  which 
the  dead  millionaire  had  stated. 

Presently,  when  Doris  left  the  young  man  to  go 
to  the  lawyer  for  a  little  consultation,  T.  B.  made 
his  way  across  the  room  and  sat  down  by  the  side 
of  Frank  Doughton. 


126  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  You  were  a  friend  of  Mr.  Farrington's,  were 
you  not?  "  he  asked. 

Frank  nodded. 

"  A  great  friend  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  like  to  say  that  I  was  a  great 
friend,"  said  the  other;  "he  was  very  kind  to 
me." 

"In  what  way  was  he  kind?"  asked  T.  B. 
"  You  will  forgive  me  for  asking  these  somewhat 
brutal  questions,  but  as  you  know  I  have  every 
reason  to  be  interested." 

Frank  smiled  faintly. 

"  I  do  not  think  that  you  are  particularly  friendly 
disposed  toward  him,  Mr.  Smith,"  he  said ;  "  in 
fact,  I  rather  wonder  that  you  are  present,  after 
what  happened  at  the  theatre." 

"  After  my  saying  that  I  wanted  to  arrest  him," 
smiled  T.  B.  "  But  why  not  ?  Even  millionaires  get 
mixed  up  in  curious  illegal  proceedings,"  he  said; 
"  but  I  am  rather  curious  to  know  what  is  the 
reason  for  Mr.  Farrington's  affection  and  in  what 
way  he  was  kind  to  you." 

Frank  hesitated.  He  desired  most  of  all  to  be 
loyal  to  the  man  who,  with  all  his  faults,  had  treated 
him  with  such  kindness. 

"  Well,  for  one  thing,"  he  said,  "  he  gave  me  a 
jolly  good  commission,  a  commission  which  might 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  127 

easily  have  brought  me  in  a  hundred  thousand 
pounds." 

T.  B.'s  interest  was  awakened. 

"  What  was  that?  "  he  asked. 

In  as  few  words  as  possible  Frank  told  the  story 
of  the  search  for  the  heir  to  the  Tollington 
millions. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  with  an  apologetic  smile, 
"  I  was  not  the  man  for  the  job — he  should  have 
given  it  to  you.  I  am  afraid  I  am  not  cut  out  for 
a  detective,  but  he  was  very  keen  on  my  taking  the 
matter  in  hand." 

T.  B.  bit  his  lips  thoughtfully. 

"  I  know  something  of  the  Tollington  millions," 
he  said ;  "  they  were  left  by  the  timber  king  of 
America  who  died  without  issue,  and  whose  heir 
or  heirs  were  supposed  to  be  in  this  country.  We 
have  had  communications  about  the  matter." 

He  frowned  again  as  he  conjured  to  his  mind 
all  the  data  of  this  particular  case. 

"Of  course,  Farrington  was  one  of  the  trustees; 
he  was  a  friend  of  old  Tollington.  That  money 
would  not  be  involved,"  he  said,  half  to  himself, 
"because  the  four  other  trustees  are  men  of  inte- 
grity holding  high  positions  in  the  financial  world 
of  the  United  States.  Thank  you  for  telling  me; 
I  will  look  up  the  matter,  and  if  I  can  be  of  any 


128  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

assistance  to  you  in  carrying  out  Mr.  Farrington's 
wishes  you  may  be  sure  that  I  will." 

There  was  a  stir  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 
With  a  preliminary  cough,  the  lawyer  rose,  the 
papers  in  his  hand. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  and  a  silence 
fell  upon  the  room,  "  it  is  my  duty  to  read  to  you 
the  terms  of  the  late  Mr.  Farrington's  will,  and 
since  it  affects  a  great  number  of  people  in  this 
room,  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will  retain  the  deepest 
silence." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  agreement  all  round,  and 
the  lawyer  began  reading  the  preliminary  and 
conventional  opening  of  the  legal  document.  The 
will  began  with  one  or  two  small  bequests  to  charit- 
able institutions,  and  the  lawyer  looking  over  his 
glasses  said  pointedly: 

"  I  need  hardly  say  that  there  will  be  no  funds 
available  from  the  estate  for  carrying  out  the  wishes 
of  the  deceased  gentleman  in  this  respect,  since 
they  are  all  contingent  upon  Mr.  Farrington  possess- 
ing a  certain  sum  at  his  death  which  I  fear  he  did 
not  possess.  The  will  goes  on  to  say,"  he  continued 
reading : 

"  '  KNOWING  that  my  dear  niece  and  ward  is 
amply  provided  for,  I  can  do  no  more  than  leave 
her  an  expression  of  my  trust  and  love,  and  it  may 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  129 

be  taken  as  my  last  and  final  request  that  she  mar- 
ries with  the  least  possible  delay  the  person  whom 
it  is  my  most  earnest  desire  she  should  take  as  a 
husband.'  " 

Two  people  in  the  audience  felt  a  sudden  cold 
thrill  of  anticipation. 

"  *  That  person,'  "  continued  the  lawyer,  solemnly, 
"  *  is  my  good  friend,  Frank  Doughton.' ' 

There  was  a  gasp  from  Frank ;  a  startled  exclama- 
tion from  the  girl.  Poltavo  went  red  and  white  and 
his  eyes  glowed.  T.  B.  Smith,  to  whom  this  portion 
of  the  will  was  known,  watched  the  actors  keenly. 
He  saw  the  bewildered  face  of  the  girl,  the  rage  in 
Poltavo's  eyes,  and  the  blank  astonishment  on  the 
face  of  Frank  as  the  lawyer  went  on: 

"  '  Knowing  the  insecurity  of  present-day  invest- 
ments, and  seized  with  the  fear  that  the  fortune 
entrusted  to  my  keeping  might  be  dissipated  by 
one  of  those  strange  accidents  of  finance  with 
which  we  are  all  acquainted,  I  have  placed  the  whole 
of  her  fortune,  to  the  value  of  eight  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds,  in  a  safe  at  the  London  Safe  Deposit, 
and  in  the  terms  of  the  power  vested  in  me  as  trustee 
by  her  late  father  I  have  instructed  my  lawyers  to 
hand  her  the  key  and  the  authority  to  open  the 
safe  on  the  day  she  marries  the  aforesaid  Frank 
Doughton.  And  if  she  should  refuse  or  through  any 


130  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

cause  or  circumstance  decline  to  carry  out  my 
wishes  in  this  respect,  I  direct  that  the  fortune 
contained  therein  shall  be  withheld  from  her  for  the 
space  of  five  years  as  from  the  date  of  my  death/  ' 

There  was  another  long  silence.  T.  B.  saw  the 
change  come  over  the  face  of  Poltavo.  From 
rage  he  had  passed  to  wonder,  from  wonder  to 
suspicion,  and  from  suspicion  to  anger  again.  T.  B. 
would  have  given  something  substantial  to  have 
known  what  was  going  on  inside  the  mind  of  this 
smooth  adventurer.  Again  the  lawyer's  voice 
insisted  upon  attention. 

"'To  Frank  Doughton,' "  he  read,  "'I  be- 
queath the  sum  of  a  thousand  pounds  to  aid  him  in 
his  search  for  the  Tollington  heir.  To  T.  B.  Smith, 
the  assistant  commissioner  at  Scotland  Yard  with 
whom  I  have  had  some  acquaintance,  and  whose 
ability  I  hold  in  the  highest  regard,  I  leave  the 
sum  of  a  thousand  pounds  as  a  slight  reward  for  his 
service  to  civilization,  and  I  direct  that  on  the  day 
he  discovers  the  most  insidious  enemy  to  society, 
Montague  Fallock,  he  shall  receive  a  further  sum 
of  one  thousand  pounds  from  the  trustees  of  my 
estate.' " 

The  lawyer  looked  up  from  his  reading. 

"  That  again,  Mr.  Smith,  is  contingent  upon  cer- 
tain matters." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  131 

T.  B.  smiled. 

"  I  quite  understand  that,"  he  said,  drily, 
"  though  possibly  you  don't,"  he  added  under  his 
breath. 

This  was  a  portion  of  the  will  about  which  he 
knew  nothing  for  the  document  had  been  executed 
but  a  few  days  before  the  tragedy  which  had 
deprived  the  world  of  Gregory  Farrington.  There 
were  a  few  more  paragraphs  to  read;  certain 
jewelleries  had  been  left  to  his  dear  friend  Count 
Ernesto  Poltavo,  and  the  reading  was  finished. 

"  I  have  only  to  say  now,"  said  the  lawyer,  as  he 
carefully  folded  his  glasses  and  put  them  away 
in  his  pocket,  "  that  there  is  a  very  considerable 
sum  of  money  at  Mr.  Farrington's  bank.  It  will 
be  for  the  courts  to  decide  in  how  so  far  that  money 
is  to  be  applied  to  the  liquidation  of  debts  incurred 
by  the  deceased  as  director  of  a  public  company. 
That  is  to  say,  that  it  will  be  a  question  for  the 
supreme  judicature  whether  the  private  fortune 
of  the  late  Mr.  Farrington  will  be  seized  to  satisfy 
his  other  creditors." 

There  was  a  haze  and  a  babble  of  talk.  Poltavo 
crossed  with  quick  steps  to  the  lawyer,  and  for  a 
moment  they  were  engaged  in  quick  conversation; 
then  suddenly  the  adventurer  turned  and  left  the 
room.  T.  B.  had  seen  the  move  and  followed  with 


132  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

rapid  steps.  He  overtook  the  Count  in  the  open 
doorway  of  the  house. 

"  A  word  with  you,  Count,"  he  said,  and  they 
descended  the  steps  together  into  the  street.  "  The 
will  was  rather  a  surprise  to  you  ?  " 

Count  Poltavo  was  now  all  smooth  equanimity. 
You  might  not  have  thought  from  his  smooth  face 
and  his  smile,  and  his  gentle  drawling  tone,  that  he 
had  been  affected  by  the  reading  of  this  strange 
document. 

"  It  is  a  surprise,  I  confess,"  he  said.  "  I  do 
not  understand  my  friend  Farrington's  action  in 
regard  to "  he  hesitated. 

"  In  regard  to  Miss  Gray,"  smiled  T.  B. 

Of  a  sudden  the  self-control  of  the  man  left  him, 
and  he  turned  with  a  snarling  voice  on  the  detective, 
but  his  wrath  was  not  directed  toward  the  cool  man 
who  stood  before  him. 

"  The  treacherous  dog !  "  he  hissed,  "  to  do  this 
— to  me.  But  it  shall  not  be,  it  shall  not  be,  I 
tell  you;  this  woman  is  more  to  me  than  you  can 
imagine."  He  struck  his  breast  violently.  "  Can 
I  speak  with  you  privately?  " 

"  I  thought  you  might  wish  to,"  said  T.  B. 

He  lifted  his  hand  and  made  an  almost  impercepti- 
ble signal,  and  a  taxicab  which  had  stood  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  road,  and  followed  them  slowly 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  133 

as  they  walked  along  Brakely  Square,  suddenly 
developed  symptoms  of  activity,  and  came  whirring 
across  the  road  to  the  sidewalk. 

T.  B.  opened  the  door  and  Poltavo  stepped  in, 
the  detective  following.  There  was  no  need  to 
give  any  instructions,  and  without  any  further 
order  the  cab  whirled  its  way  through  the  West 
End  until  it  came  to  the  arched  entrance  of  Scotland 
Yard,  and  there  the  man  alighted.  By  the  time 
they  had  reached  T.  B.'s  room,  Poltavo  had  regained 
something  of  his  self-possession.  He  walked  up 
and  down  the  room,  his  hands  thrust  into  his 
pockets,  his  head  sunk  upon  his  breast. 

"  Now,"  said  T.  B.,  seating  himself  at  his  desk, 
"  what  would  you  like  to  say?  " 

"  There  is  much  I  would  like  to  say,"  said  Poltavo, 
quietly,  "  and  I  am  now  considering  whether  it  will 
be  in  my  interest  to  tell  all  at  this  moment  or 
whether  it  would  be  best  that  I  should  maintain 
my  silence  longer." 

"  Your  silence  in  regard  to  Farrington  I  presume 
you  are  referring  to,"  suggested  T.  B.  Smith  easily; 
"  perhaps  I  can  assist  you  a  little  to  unburden  your 
mind." 

"  I  think  not,"  said  Poltavo,  quickly ;  "  you  cannot 
know  as  much  about  this  man  as  I.  I  had  intended," 
he  said,  frankly,  "  to  tell  you  much  that  would  have 


134  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

surprised  you;  at  present  it  is  advisable  that  I 
should  wait  for  one  or  two  days  in  order  that  I 
may  give  some  interested  people  an  opportunity  of 
undoing  a  great  deal  of  mischief  which  they  have 
done.  I  must  go  to  Paris  at  once." 

T.  B.  said  nothing;  there  was  no  purpose  to  be 
served  in  hastening  the  issue  at  this  particular 
moment.  The  man  had  recovered  his  self-posses- 
sion, he  would  talk  later,  and  T.  B.  was  content  to 
wait,  and  for  the  moment  to  entertain  his  un- 
expected guest. 

"  It  is  a  strange  place,"  said  the  Count  calmly, 
scrutinizing  the  room;  "this  is  Scotland  Yard! 
The  Great  Scotland  Yard!  of  which  all  criminals 
stand  in  terror,  even  with  which  our  local  criminals 
in  Poland  have  some  acquaintance." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  strange  place,"  said  T.  B.  "  Shall 
I  show  you  the  strangest  place  of  all?  " 

"  I  should  be  delighted,"  said  the  other. 

T.  B.  led  the  way  along  the  corridor,  rang  for  the 
lift,  and  they  were  shot  up  to  the  third  floor.  Here 
at  the  end  of  a  long  passage,  was  a  large  room,  in 
which  row  after  row  of  cabinets  were  methodically 
arrayed. 

"  This  is  our  record  department,"  said  T.  B. ; 
"  it  will  have  have  a  special  interest  for  you,  Count 
Poltavo." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  135 

"  Why  for  me  ?  "  asked  the  other,  with  a  smile. 

"  Because  I  take  it  you  are  interested  in  the 
study  of  criminal  detection,"  replied  T.  B.  easily. 

He  walked  aimlessly  along  one  extensive  row  of 
drawers,  and  suddenly  came  to  a  halt. 

"  Here,  for  instance,  is  a  record  of  a  remarkable 
man,"  he  said.  He  pulled  open  a  drawer  unerringly, 
ran  his  fingers  along  the  top  of  a  batch  of  envelopes 
and  selected  one.  He  nodded  the  Count  to  a 
polished  table  near  the  window,  and  pulled  up  two 
chairs. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  said,  "  and  I  will  introduce  you 
to  one  of  the  minor  masters  of  the  criminal  world." 

Count  Poltavo  was  an  interested  man  as  T.  B. 
opened  the  envelope  and  took  out  two  plain  folders, 
and  laid  them  on  the  table. 

He  opened  the  first  of  these ;  the  photograph  "of  a 
military-looking  man  in  Russian  uniform  lay  upon 
the  top.  Poltavo  saw  it,  gasped,  and  looked  up, 
his  face  livid. 

"  That  was  the  Military  Governor  of  Poland," 
said  T.  B.,  easily;  "he  was  assassinated  by  one 
who  posed  as  his  son  many  years  ago." 

The  Count  had  risen  quickly,  and  stood  shaking 
from  head  to  foot,  his  trembling  hand  at  his 
mouth. 

"  I    have   never    seen  .him,"    he    muttered.    "  I 


136  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

think  your  record  office  is  very  close — you  have  no 
ventilation." 

"  Wait  a  little,"  said  T.  B.,  and  he  turned  to  the 
second  dossier. 

Presently  he  extracted  another  photograph,  the 
photograph  of  a  young  man,  a  singularly  good-look- 
ing youth,  and  laid  it  on  the  table  by  the  side  of 
the  other  picture. 

"  Do  you  know  this  gentleman  ?  "  asked  T.  B. 

There  was  no  reply. 

"  It  is  the  photograph  of  the  murderer,"  the 
detective  went  on,  "  and  unfortunately  this  was 
not  his  only  crime.  You  will  observe  there  are  two 
distinct  folders,  each  filled  with  particulars  of  our 
young  friend's  progress  along  the  path  which  leads 
to  the  gallows." 

He  sorted  out  another  photograph.  It  was  3, 
beautiful  girl  in  a  Russian  peasant  costume;  evi- 
dently the  portrait  of  some  one  taken  at  a  fancy 
dress  ball,  because  both  the  refined  face  and  the 
figure  of  the  girl  were  inconsistent  with  the  costume. 

"  That  is  the  Princess  Lydia  Bontasky,"  said 
T.  B.,  "  one  of  the  victims  of  our  young  friend's 
treachery.  Here  is  another." 

The  face  of  the  fourth  photograph  was  plain, 
and  marked  with  sorrow. 

"  She  was  shot  at  Kieff  by  our  young  and  high- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  137 

spirited  friend,  and  died  of  her  wounds.  Here  are 
particulars  of  a  bank  robbery  organized  five  years 
ago  by  a  number  of  people  who  called  themselves 
anarchists,  but  who  were  in  reality  very  common- 
place, conventional  thieves  unpossessed  of  any 
respect  for  human  life.  But  I  see  this  does  not 
interest  you." 

He  closed  the  dossier  and  put  it  back  into  its 
envelope,  before  he  looked  up  at  the  Count's  face. 
The  man  was  pale  now,  with  a  waxen  pallor  of 
death. 

"  They  are  very  interesting,"  he  muttered. 

He  stumbled  rather  than  walked  the  length  of 
the  room,  and  he  had  not  recovered  when  they 
reached  the  corridor. 

"  This  is  the  way  out,"  said  T.  B.,  as  he  indicated 
the  broad  stairs.  "  I  advise  you,  Count  Poltavo, 
to  step  warily.  It  will  be  my  duty  to  inform  the 
Russian  police  that  you  are  at  present  in  this 
country.  Whether  they  move  or  do  not  move  is  a 
problematical  matter.  Your  fellow-countrymen  are 
not  specially  energetic  where  crimes  of  five  years' 
standing  are  concerned.  But  this  I  warn  you," — 
he  dropped  his  hand  upon  the  other's  shoulder, — 
"  that  if  you  stand  in  my  way  I  shall  give  you  trouble 
which  will  have  much  more  serious  consequences  for 
you." 


138  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Three  minutes  later  Poltavo  walked  out  of 
Scotland  Yard  like  a  man  in  a  dream.  He  hailed 
the  first  cab  that  came  past  and  drove  back  to  his 
flat.  He  was  there  for  ten  minutes  and  emerged 
with  a  handbag. 

He  drove  to  the  Grand  Marylebone  Hotel,  and 
detective  inspector  Ela,  who  had  watched  his 
every  movement,  followed  in  another  taxi.  He 
waited  until  he  saw  Poltavo  enter  the  hotel,  then 
the  officer  descended  some  distance  from  the  door, 
and  walked  nonchalantly  to  the  entrance. 

There  was  no  sign  of  Poltavo. 

Ela  strolled  carelessly  through  the  corridor,  and 
down  into  the  big  palm  court.  From  the  palm 
court  another  entrance  led  into  the  Marylebone 
Road.  Ela  quickened  his  steps,  went  through  the 
big  swing  doors  to  the  vestibule. 

Yes,  the  porter  on  duty  had  seen  the  gentleman; 
he  had  called  a  taxi  and  gone  a  few  minutes  before. 

Ela  cursed  himself  for  his  folly  in  letting  the  man 
out  of  his  sight. 

He  reported  the  result  of  his  shadowing  to  T.  B. 
Smith  over  the  telephone,  and  T.  B.  was  frankly 
uncomplimentary. 

"  However,  I  think  I  know  where  we  will  pick 
him  up,"  he  said.  "  Meet  me  at  Waterloo ;  we  must 
catch  the  6:15  to  Great  Bradley." 


CHAPTER  XI 

"T/'OU  want  to  see  Mr.  Moole?  "  Dr.  Fall  asked 

JL     the  visitor. 

"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Moole,"  replied  Poltavo.  He 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  Secret  House,  and  after 
a  brief  scrutiny  the  big-faced  doctor  admitted  him, 
closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"Tell  me,  what  do  you  want?"  he  asked.  He 
had  seen  the  curious  gesture  that  Poltavo  had 
made — the  pass  sign  which  had  unbarred  the 
entrance  to  many  strange  people. 

"  I  want  to  see  Farrington !  "  replied  Poltavo, 
coolly. 

"  Farrington !  "  Fall's  brow  knit  in  a  puzzled 
frown. 

"  Farrington,"  repeated  Poltavo,  impatiently. 
"  Do  not  let  us  have  any  of  this  nonsense,  Fall. 
I  want  to  see  him  on  a  matter  of  urgency.  I  am 
Poltavo." 

139 


140  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  know  just  who  you  are,"  said  Fall,  calmly, 
"  but  why  you  should  come  here  under  the  im- 
pression that  the  late  Mr.  Farrington  is  an  inmate 
of  this  establishment  I  do  not  understand.  We 
are  a  lunatic  asylum,  not  a  mortuary,"  he  said, 
with  heavy  humour. 

Still,  he  led  the  way  upstairs  to  the  drawing- 
room  on  the  first  floor. 

"  What  is  the  trouble  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  closed 
the  door  behind  him. 

Poltavo  chose  to  tell  the  story  of  his  identifica- 
tion by  T.  B.  Smith  rather  than  the  real  object  of 
his  journey.  Fall  listened  in  silence. 

"  I  doubt  very  much  whether  he  will  see  you," 
he  said :  "  he  is  in  his  worst  mood.  However,  I 
will  go  along  and  find  out  what  his  wishes  are." 

He  was  absent  for  ten  minutes,  and  when  he 
returned  he  beckoned  to  the  visitor. 

Poltavo  followed  him  up  the  stairs  till  he  came 
to  the  room  in  which  the  bedridden  Mr.  Moole  lay. 

A  man  turned  as  the  two  visitors  came  in — it 
was  Farrington  in  the  life,  Farrington  as  he  had 
seen  him  on  the  night  of  his  disappearance  from 
the  box  at  the  Jollity.  The  big  man  nodded  curtly. 

"  Why  have  you  come  down  here,"  he  asked, 
harshly,  "  leading  half  the  detectives  in  London  to 
me?" 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  141 

"  I  do  not  think  you  need  bother  about  half 
the  detectives  in  London,"  said  Poltavo.  He  looked 
at  Fall.  "  I  want  to  see  you  alone,"  he  said. 

Farrington  nodded  his  head  and  the  other  de- 
parted, closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"  Now,"  said  Poltavo, — he  crossed  the  room  with 
two  strides, — "  I  want  to  know  what  you  mean — you 
treacherous  dog — by  this  infernal  will  of  yours !  " 

"  You  can  sit  down,"  said  Farrington,  coolly, 
"  and  you  can  learn  right  now,  Poltavo,  that  I 
do  not  stand  for  any  man  questioning  me  as  to  why 
I  should  do  this  or  that,  and  I  certainly  do  not 
stand  for  any  human  being  in  the  world  speaking 
to  me  as  you  are  doing." 

"  You  know  that  you  are  in  my  power,"  said 
Poltavo,  viciously.  "  Are  you  aware  that  I  could 
raise  my  finger  and  tumble  your  precious  plot  into 
the  dust?" 

"  There  are  many  things  I  know,"  said  Far- 
rington, "  and  if  you  knew  them  too  you  would  keep 
a  civil  tongue  in  your  head.  Sit  down.  What 
is  the  trouble  ?  " 

"  Why  did  you  leave  that  instruction  in  your 
will?  That  Doris  was  to  marry  this  infernal 
Doughton  ?  " 

"  For  a  very  good  reason." 

"Explain  the  reason !"  stormed  the  angry  man. 


142  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  shall  do  nothing  so  absurd,"  smiled  Farrington, 
crookedly ;  "  it  is  enough  when  I  say  I  want  this 
girl's  happiness.  Don't  you  realize,"  he  went  on 
rapidly,  "  that  the  only  thing  I  have  in  my  life, 
that  is  at  all  clean,  or  precious,  or  worth  while,  is 
my  affection  for  my  niece?  I  want  to  see  her 
happy ;  I  know  that  her  happiness  lies  with  Dough- 
ton." 

"You  are  mad,"  snarled  the  other;  "the  girl 
is  half  in  love  with  me." 

"With  you,"  Farrington's  eyes  narrowed;  "that 
is  absolutely  impossible." 

"  Why  impossible  ?  "  demanded  Poltavo  loudly ; 
"why  impossible?"  He  thumped  the  table 
angrily. 

"  For  many  reasons,"  said  Farrington.  "  First, 
because  you  are  unworthy  to  be  her  under-gardener, 
much  less  her  husband.  You  are,  forgive  my 
frankness,  a  blackguard,  a  thief,  a  murderer,  a 
forger  and  a  bank  robber,  so  far  as  I  know."  He 
smiled.  "  Yes,  I  was  an  interested  listener  to  your 
conversation  with  Fall.  I  have  all  sorts  of  weird 
instruments  here  by  which  I  can  pick  up  unguarded 
items  of  talk,  but  fortunately  I  have  no  need  to  be 
informed  on  this  subject.  I  have  as  complete  a  rec- 
ord of  your  past  as  our  friend  Smith,  and  I  tell  you, 
Poltavo,  that  whilst  I  am  willing  that  you  shall  be 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  143 

my  agent,  and  that  you  shall  profit  enormously 
by  working  hand  in  hand  with  me,  I  would  sooner 
see  myself  dead  than  I  should  hand  Doris  over  to 
your  tender  mercies." 

An  ugly  smile  played  about  the  lips  of  Poltavo. 

"  That  is  your  last  word  ?  "  he  asked. 

"That  is  my  last  word,"  said  Farrington;  "if 
you  will  be  advised  by  me,  you  will  let  the  matter 
stand  where  it  is.  Leave  things  as  they  are,  Pol- 
tavo.  You  are  on  the  way  to  making  a  huge 
fortune;  do  not  let  this  absurd  sentiment,  or  this 
equally  absurd  ambition  of  yours,  step  in  and  spoil 
everything." 

"  And  whatever  happens  you  would  never  allow 
Doris  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  meant,  and  exactly  what 
I  still  say,"  said  Farrington,  firmly. 

"  But,  suppose," — Poltavo's  hands  caressed  his 
little  moustache,  and  he  was  smiling  wickedly, — 
"  suppose  I  force  your  hand  ?  " 

Farrington's  eyebrows  rose.  "  How  ?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

"  Suppose  I  take  advantage  of  the  fact  that  Miss 
Doris  Gray,  an  impressionable  young  English  girl, 
receptive  to  sympathetic  admiration  and  half  in 
love  with  me — suppose,  I  say,  I  took  advantage  of 
this  fact,  and  we  marry  in  the  face  of  your  will?" 


144  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  You  would  be  sorry,"  said  Farrington,  grimly ; 
"  you  may  be  sorry  that  you  even  threatened  as 
much." 

"  I  not  only  threaten,"  snarled  Poltavo,  "  but 
I  will  carry  out  my  threat,  and  you  interfere  with 
me  at  your  peril ! "  He  shook  his  clenched  fist  in 
Farrington's  face.  The  elder  man  looked  at  him 
with  a  long,  earnest  glance  in  which  his  keen  eyes 
seemed  to  search  the  very  soul  of  the  Russian. 

"  I  wish  this  had  not  happened,"  he  said,  half  to 
himself.  "  I  had  hoped  that  there  was  the  making 
of  a  useful  man  in  you,  Poltavo,  but  I  have  been 
mistaken.  I  never  thought  that  sentiment  would 
creep  in.  Is  it  money — her  fortune?"  he  asked, 
suddenly. 

Poltavo  shook  his  head. 

"  Curse  the  money,"  he  said,  roughly ;  "  I  want 
the  girl.  I  tell  you,  Farrington,  every  day  she 
grows  more  precious  and  more  desirable  to  me." 

"  Other  women  have  become  precious  and  desir- 
able to  you,"  said  Farrington  in  a  low,  passionate 
voice,  "  and  they  have  enjoyed  the  fleeting  happi- 
ness of  your  favour  for — how  long?  Just  as  long 
as  you  wanted,  Poltavo,  and  when  you  have  been 
satisfied  and  sated  yourself  with  joy,  you  have  cast 
them  out  as  they  had  been  nothing  to  you.  I 
know  your  record,  my  man,"  he  said.  "  All  that 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  145 

I  want  now  is  to  assure  myself  that  you  are  in 
earnest,  because  if  you  are "  He  paused. 

"  If  I  am ?  "  sneered  Poltavo. 

"  You  will  not  leave  this  house  alive,"  said  Far- 
rington. 

He  said  it  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  and  the  full 
significance  of  his  speech  did  not  dawn  upon  the 
Russian  until  long  after  he  had  said  it. 

For  the  space  of  a  second  or  two  his  lips  were 
smiling,  and  then  the  smile  suddenly  froze.  His 
hand  went  back  to  his  hip  pocket  and  reappeared, 
holding  a  long-barrelled  automatic  pistol. 

"  Don't  you  try  any  of  your  tricks  on  me,"  he 
breathed.  "  I  am  quite  prepared  for  all  eventuali- 
ties, Mr.  Farrington ;  you  make  a  mistake  to  threaten 
me." 

"  Not  such  a  mistake  as  you  have  made,"  smiled 
Farrington.  "  You  may  fire  your  pistol  to  see  if 
it  will  go  off.  My  own  impression  is  that  the 
magazine  has  been  removed." 

One  glance  at  the  weapon  was  sufficient  to 
demonstrate  to  the  other  that  the  man  had  spoken 
the  truth.  He  went  deathly  white. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  genially,  "  let  us  make  an 
end  to  this  absurd  breach  of  friendship.  I  have 
come  down  to  see  what  I  can  do  for  you." 

"  You  have  come  down  now  to  force  me  to  grant 


146  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

your  wishes  regarding  Doris,"  said  Farrington.  "  I 
think  the  matter  had  better  end."  He  pressed  the 
bell,  and  Fall  came  in  after  a  few  moments'  interval. 

"  Give  the  Count  some  refreshment  before  he 
goes,"  he  said;  "  he  is  going  to  London." 

The  very  matter-of-factness  of  the  instructions 
reassured  Count  Poltavo,  who  for  one  moment  had 
stood  in  a  panic  of  fear;  there  was  that  in  this  big 
silent  house  which  terrified  him.  And  with  the 
removal  of  this  fear  his  insolent  assurance  returned. 
He  stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  You  have  made  up  your  mind  about  Doris  ?  " 
he  said. 

"  Absolutely,"  said  Farrington. 

"  Very  good,"  said  Poltavo. 

He  followed  Fall  along  the  corridor,  and  the 
doctor  opened  a  small  door  and  illuminated  a  tiny 
lift  inside,  and  Poltavo  stepped  in.  As  he  did  so 
the  door  clicked. 

"  How  do  I  work  this  lift?  "  he  asked  through 
the  ornamental  ironwork  of  the  doorway. 

"  I  work  it  from  outside,"  said  Dr.  Fall,  cheer- 
fully, and  pressed  a  button.  The  lift  sank.  It 
passed  one  steel  door — that  was  the  first  floor; 
and  another — that  was  the  ground  floor,  but  still 
the  lift  did  not  stop.  It  went  on  falling  slowly, 
evenly,  without  jar  or  haste,  and  suddenly  it  came 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  147 

to  a  stop  before  a  door  made  of  a  number  of  thin 
steel  bars  placed  horizontally.  As  the  lift  stopped, 
the  steel-barred  doorway  opened  noiselessly.  All 
Poltavo's  senses  were  now  alert;  he,  a  past  master 
in  the  art  of  treachery,  had  been  at  last  its  victim. 
He  did  not  leave  the  tiny  lift  for  a  moment,  but  pre- 
pared for  eventualities.  He  took  a  pencil  out  of 
his  pocket  and  wrote  rapidly  on  the  wooden  panel- 
ling of  the  elevator,  and  then  he  stepped  out  into 
the  semi-darkness.  He  saw  a  large  apartment,  a 
bed  and  chair,  and  above  a  large  table  one  dim 
light.  A  number  of  switches  on  the  wall  facing 
him  promised  further  illumination.  Anyway,  if 
the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  he  could  find  a  way 
by  the  lift  well  to  safety  again.  He  searched  his 
pockets  with  feverish  haste.  He  usually  carried 
one  or  two  pistol  cartridges  in  case  of  necessity, 
and  he  was  rewarded,  for,  in  his  top  waistcoat  pocket, 
he  discovered  two  nickel-pointed  shapes.  Hastily 
he  removed  the  dummy  magazine  from  the  butt 
of  his  pistol.  The  removal  of  the  magazine  must 
have  been  effected  by  his  servant,  and  the  servant, 
now  he  came  to  give  the  matter  consideration,  was 
possibly  in  the  pay  of  Farrington,  and  had  probably 
warned  the  occupants  of  the  Secret  House  of  Pol- 
tavo's departure. 

It  was  but  natural  that  the  big  man  would  take 


148  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

no  chances,  and  Poltavo  cursed  himself  for  a  fool 
for  allowing  himself  to  be  lured  into  a  sense  oil 
security.  He  stepped  out  of  the  lift;  there  was 
enough  light  to  guide  him  across  the  room.  He 
reached  the  switchboard  and  pulled  one  of  the 
little  levers.  Three  lights  appeared  at  the  far  end 
of  the  room;  he  pulled  over  the  rest  and  the  room 
was  brilliantly  illuminated. 

It  was  an  underground  chamber,  with  red,  dis- 
tempered walls,  artistically  furnished.  The  small 
bed  in  the  corner  was  of  brass;  the  air  was 
conveyed  to  his  gloomy  chamber  by  means  of 
ventilators  placed  at  intervals  in  the  wall. 

Not  an  uncomfortable  prison,  thought  Poltavo. 
He  was  making  his  inspection  when  he  heard  a 
clang,  and  swung  round.  The  steel  door  of  the 
lift  had  closed  and  he  reached  it  just  in  time  to 
see  the  floor  of  the  little  cage  ascending  out  of  sight. 
He  cursed  himself  again  for  his  insensate  folly; 
he  might  have  fixed  the  door  with  a  chair;  it  was 
an  elementary  precaution  to  take,  but  he  had  not 
realized  the  possibilities  of  this  house  of  mystery. 

Perhaps  the  chairs  were  fixed.  He  tried  them, 
but  found  he  was  mistaken,  except  in  one  case. 
The  great  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  solid  and 
heavy,  was  immovable,  for  it  was  clamped  to  the 
floor. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  149 

In  one  corner  was  a  framework,  and  he  guessed 
it  to  be  the  slide  in  which  the  small  provision  lift 
ran. 

His  surmise  was  accurate,  for  even  while  he  was 
examining  it,  a  trap  opened  in  the  ceiling,  and  there 
slid  down  noiselessly  between  the  oiled  grids  a  tiny 
platform  on  which  was  a  tray  filled  with  covered 
dishes.  He  lifted  the  viands  from  the  little  elevator 
to  the  table  and  inspected  them.  There  was  a  note 
written  in  pencil. 

"  You  need  have  no  fear  in  consuming  the  food 
we  provide  for  you,"  it  ran.  "  Dr.  Fall  will  per- 
sonally vouch  for  its  purity,  and  will,  if  necessary, 
sample  it  in  your  presence.  If  you  should  need 
attendance  you  will  find  a  small  bell  fixed  on  the 
under  side  of  the  table." 

Poltavo  looked  at  the  dinner.  He  was  raven- 
ously hungry;  he  must  take  the  chance  of  poison; 
after  all,  these  people  had  him  so  completely  in 
their  power  that  there  was  no  necessity  to  take  any 
precaution  so  far  as  his  food  was  concerned.  He 
attacked  an  excellent  dinner  without  discomfort 
to  himself,  and  when  he  had  finished  he  bethought 
himself  of  the  bell,  and  finding  it  under  the  edge 
of  the  table,  he  pressed  the  button.  He  had  not 
long  to  wait;  he  heard  the  faint  hum  of  machinery 
and  walked  across  to  the  barred  gate  of  the  lift, 


150  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

his  pistol  ready.  He  waited,  his  eyes  fixed  up  at 
the  black  square  through  which  he  expected  the 
lift  to  sink,  and  heard  himself  suddenly  called  by 
name. 

He  turned;  Doctor  Fall  was  standing  in  the 
centre  of  the  room.  By  what  means  he  had  arrived 
there  was  no  evidence  to  show. 

"  I  hope  I  did  not  surprise  you,"  said  the  doctor, 
with  his  quiet  smile ;  "  I  did  not  come  the  way  you 
expected.  There  are  three  entrances  to  this  room, 
and  they  are  all  equally  difficult  to  negotiate." 

"May  I  inquire  the  meaning  of  this  outrage?" 
asked  Poltavo. 

''  Your  virtuous  indignation  does  you  credit, 
Count,"  said  the  doctor.  He  sat  down  by  the 
table,  took  a  cigar-case  from  his  pocket,  and  offered 
it  to  his  unwilling  guest. 

"  You  do  not  smoke ;  I  am  sorry.  Would  you 
like  a  cigarette  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  I  have  all  the  cigarettes  I  require," 
said  Poltavo,  briefly. 

The  doctor  did  not  speak  until  he  had  leisurely 
bitten  off  the  end  of  a  cigar  and  lit  it. 

"  As  I  say,"  he  went  on,  "  I  admire  your  sang 
froid.  The  word  '  outrage '  comes  curiously  from 
you,  Count,  but  I  am  merely  carrying  out  Mr. 
Farrington's  wishes,  when  I  say  that  I  am  per- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  151 

fectly  willing  to  explain  your  present  unhappy 
position.  In  some  way  you  have  made  our  friend 
very  angry,"  he  went  on,  easily ;  "  and  at  present 
he  is  disposed  to  treat  you  with  considerable  harsh- 
ness, to  mete  out  the  same  harsh  justice,  in  fact, 
that  he  accorded  to  two  of  the  people  who  were 
engaged  in  the  building  of  this  house,  and  who  were 
predisposed  to  blackmail  him  with  a  threat  of 
betrayal." 

"  I  knew  nothing  of  these,"  said  Poltavo. 

"  Then  you  are  one  of  the  few  people  in  London 
who  do  not,"  said  Dr.  Fall,  with  a  smile.  "  One 
was  an  architect,  the  other  a  fairly  efficient  man 
of  a  type  you  will  find  on  the  continent  of  Europe, 
and  who  will  be  an  electrician's  assistant  or  a  waiter 
with  equal  felicity.  These  men  were  engaged  to 
assist  in  the  construction  of  the  house,  triey  were 
brought  from  Italy  with  a  number  of  other  work- 
men, and  entrusted  with  a  section  of  its  completion. 
Not  satisfied  with  the  handsome  pay  they  received 
for  their  workmanship,  they  instituted  a  system 
of  blackmail  which  culminated  one  night  at  Brakely 
Square  in  their  untimely  death." 

"  Did   Farrington  kill  them  ?  "   gasped  Poltavo. 

"  I  will  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that,"  said  the 
suave  secretary ;  "  I  only  say  that  they  died.  Un- 
fortunately for  them,  they  were  acting  independently 


152  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

of  one  another  and  quarrelled  violently  when  they 
found  that  they  had  both  come  upon  a  similar 
errand,  having  at  last  identified  the  mysterious 
gentleman,  who  had  commissioned  the  house,  with 
Gregory  Farrington,  a  worthy  and  blackmailable 
millionaire." 

"  So  that  was   it,"   said   Poltavo,   thoughtfully. 

"  What  a  fool  I  was  not  to  understand,  not  to  see. 
the  connection.  They  were  shot  dead  outside 
Farrington's  house.  Who  else  could  have  com- 
mitted the  crime  but  he  ?  " 

"  Again,  I  will  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that," 
repeated  the  secretary ;  "  I  merely  remark  that 
the  men  died  a  most  untimely  death,  as  a  result 
of  their  eagerness  to  extract  advantages  from  Mr. 
Farrington,  which  he  was  not  prepared  to  offer. 
You,  Count  Poltavo,  are  in  some  danger  of  sharing 
the  same  fate." 

"  I  have  been  in  tighter  holes  than  this,"  smiled 
Poltavo,  but  he  was  uneasy. 

"  Do  not  boast,"  said  the  doctor  quietly.  "  I 
doubt  very  much  whether  in  your  life  yon  have 
been  in  so  tight  a  hole  as  you  are  in  now.  We  are 
quite  prepared  to  kill  you;  I  tell  you  that  much, 
because  Mr.  Farrington  does  not  ordinarily  take 
risks.  In  your  case,  however,  he  is  prepared,  just 
so  long  as  you  are  impressed  with  his  power  to 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  153 

punish,  to  give  you  one  chance  of  life.  Whether 
you  take  that  chance  or  not  entirely  depends  upon 
yourself.  He  will  not  extract  any  oaths  or  prom- 
ises or  pledges  of  any  kind;  he  will  release  you 
with  the  assurance  that  if  you  will  serve  him  you 
will  be  handsomely  rewarded,  and  if  you  fail  him 
you  will  be  most  handsomely  killed;  do  I  make 
myself  clear?  " 

"  Very,"  said  Poltavo,  and  the  hand  that  raised 
the  cigarette  to  his  lips  trembled  a  little. 

"  I  would  like  to  add,"  began  the  doctor,  when 
the  shrill  sound  of  a  ringing  bell  rang  through  the 
vaulted  apartment.  Fall  sprang  up,  walked  quietly 
to  the  wall,  and  placed  his  ear  against  a  portion 
which  appeared  to  be  no  different  to  any  other, 
but  which,  as  Poltavo  gathered,  concealed  a  hidden 
telephone. 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  asked.  He  listened.  "  Very  good," 
he  said. 

He  turned  to  Poltavo,  and  surveyed  him  gravely. 

"  You  will  be  interested  to  learn,"  he  said,  "  that 
the  house  is  entirely  surrounded  by  police.  You 
have  evidently  been  followed  here." 

A  light  sprang  into  Poltavo's  eyes. 

"  That  is  very  awkward  for  you,"  he  said,  with 
a  laugh. 

•'More  awkward  for  you,  I  think,"  said  Doctor 


154  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Fall,  walking  slowly  to  the  farthermost  wall  of  the 
room. 

"Stop!"   said  Poltavo. 

The  doctor  turned.  He  was  covered  by  the  black 
barrel  of  Poltavo's  pistol. 

"  I  beg  to  assure  you,"  said  the  Count  mockingly, 
"  that  this  pistol  is  loaded  with  two  small  cartridges 
which  I  found  in  my  waistcoat  pocket,  and  which 
I  usually  carry  in  case  of  emergency.  There  is  at 
any  rate  sufficient " 

He  said  no  more,  for  suddenly  the  room  was 
plunged  in  darkness,  the  lights  were  extinguished 
by  an  unseen  hand  as  at  some  signal,  and  a  mocking 
laugh  came  back  to  him  from  where  Fall  had  stood. 

"  Shoot !  "  said  the  voice,  but  the  two  cartridges 
were  too  precious  for  Poltavo  to  take  any  risks  in 
the  dark.  He  stood  waiting,  suddenly  heard  a 
click,  and  then  the  lights  came  up  again.  He  was 
alone  in  the  room.  He  shrugged  his  shoulders; 
there  was  nothing  to  do  but  wait. 

If  T.  B.  Smith  had  followed  him  here,  and  if 
he  had  taken  the  drastic  step  of  surrounding  the 
house  with  police,  there  was  hope  that  he  might 
be  rescued  from  his  present  unhappy  plight.  If 
not,  he  had  the  promise  which  Farrington  had  given 
of  his  release  on  terms. 

He  heard  the  whirr  of  the  descending  lift;  this 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  155 

time  it  was  the  elevator  by  which  he  himself  had 
descended.  It  came  to  a  halt  at  the  floor  level 
and  the  steel  gates  swung  open  invitingly.  He  must 
take  his  chance;  anyway,  anything  was  better 
than  remaining  in  this  underground  room. 

He  stepped  into  the  lift  and  pulled  the  gates 
close  after  him.  To  his  surprise  they  answered 
readily,  and  as  the  lock  snapped  the  lift  went 
upwards  slowly.  Two  overhanging  electric  lamps 
illuminated  the  little  elevator.  They  were  danger- 
ous to  him.  v  With  the  steel  barrel  of  his  pistol  he 
smashed  the  bulbs  and  crouched  down  in  the 
darkness,  his  finger  on  the  trigger,  ready  for  any 
emergency. 

T.  B.  Smith  was  standing  in  the  hall,  and  behind 
him  three  hard-featured  men  from  the  Yard.  Be- 
fore him  was  Dr.  Fall,  imperturbable  and  obeying 
as  ever. 

"  You  are  perfectly  at  liberty  to  search  the 
house,"  he  was  saying,  "  and,  as  far  as  Count  Pol- 
tavo  is  concerned,  there  is  no  mystery  whatever. 
He  is  one  of  the  people  who  have  been  attracted 
here  by  curiosity,  and  at  the  present  moment  he  is 
inspecting  the  wonders  of  our  beautiful  establish- 
ment." 

There  was  something  of  truth  in  his  ironic  tone, 
and  T.  B.  was  puzzled. 


156  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Will  you  kindly  produce  Count  Poltavo?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  the  secretary. 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  the  lift  door  opened 
and  Poltavo  stepped  out,  pistol  in  hand. 

He  saw  the  group  and  took  in  its  significance. 
He  had  now  to  decide  in  that  moment  with  whom 
he  should  run.  His  mind  was  made  up  quickly; 
he  knew  he  had  no  friends  in  the  police  force; 
whatever  prosperity  awaited  him  must  come  from 
Farrington  and  his  influence. 

"  An  interesting  weapon  you  have  in  your  hand, 
Count,"  drawled  T.  B.  "Do  I  understand  that 
you  have  been  inspecting  the  art  treasures  of  the 
Secret  House  in  some  fear  of  your  life?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Poltavo,  as  he  slipped  the 
pistol  into  his  pocket.  "  I  have  merely  been  en- 
gaged in  a  little  pistol  practice  in  the  underground 
shooting  gallery;  it  is  an  interesting  place;  you 
should  see  it." 

Dr.  Fall's  eyes  did  not  leave  the  face  of  his  late 
prisoner,  and  Poltavo  saw  an  approving  gleam  in 
the  dark  eyes. 

"  I  should  not,  ordinarily,  take  the  trouble  to 
inspect  your  shooting  gallery,"  said  T.  B.  Smith 
with  a  smile,  "  because  I  know  that  you  are  not 
speaking  the  exact  truth,  Count  Poltavo.  My  own 
impression  is  that  you  have  every  reason  to  be 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  157 

thankful  for  my  arrival.  In  the  present  circum- 
stances, perhaps,  it  would  be  advisable  to  look  over 
a  portion  of  your  domain  which,  so  far,  has  escaped 
my  inspection." 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  It  is  hardly  a  shooting  gallery,  but  since  it  is 
so  far  removed  from  the  living  portion  of  the  house 
we  sometimes  use  it  for  that  purpose,"  he  said. 
"  I  have  not  the  slightest  objection  to  your 
descending." 

T.  B.  entered  the  lift.  It  was  in  darkness,  as 
a  result  of  Poltavo's  precautions. 

"  I  will  go  alone,"  said  T.  B.,  and  Fall,  with  a 
little  bow,  closed  the  gates,  and  the  lift  descended. 

They  waited  some  time;  Fall  had  the  power, 
from  where  he  was,  of  closing  the  gates  below  and 
bringing  the  lift  up  again.  This  Poltavo  knew  to 
his  cost,  but  there  were  good  reasons  why  the  doctor 
should  not  exercise  his  knowledge,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  the  lift  came  back  to  its  original  position 
and  T.  B.  stepped  out. 

"  Thank  you,  I  have  learned  all  I  want  to  know," 
he  said  with  a  keen  glance  at  Poltavo.  "  Really, 
you  have  an  extraordinary  house,  Dr.  Fall." 

"  It  is  always  open  to  your  inspection,"  said  the 
doctor,  with  a  heavy  smile. 

T.  B.  was  fingering  the  little  electric  lamp,  which 


158  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

he  carried  in  his  hand,  in  an  absent-minded  manner. 
Presently  he  put  it  into  his  pocket,  and,  with  a  nod 
to  his  host,  walked  across  the  hall.  He  turned  sud- 
denly and  addressed  Poltavo. 

"  When  you  were  trapped  in  this  house,"  he 
said,  quietly,  "  and  expected  considerable  trouble 
in  escaping  from  the  trap,  you  took  the  precaution, 
like  the  careful  man  that  you  are,  of  inscribing  a 
message  which  might  aid  those  who  came  to  your 
relief.  This  message  has  now  served  its  purpose," 
he  smiled,  as  he  saw  the  look  of  consternation  on 
Poltavo's  face,  "  and  you  will  be  well  advised  to 
invite  your  friend  to  wipe  it  out  " ;  and  with  another 
nod  he  passed  from  the  house,  followed  by  his 
three  men. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  asked  Fall,  quickly. 

"  I — I — "  stammered  Poltavo,  flustered  for 
once  in  his  life,  "  wrote  on  the  side  of  the  lift  a  few 
words  only,  nothing  incriminating,  my  dear  doctor, 
just  a  line  to  say  that  I  was  imprisoned  below." 

With  a  curse  Fall  dashed  into  the  little 
elevator. 

"  Bring  a  light,"  he  said,  and  struck  a  match 
to  read  the  scrawl  which  Poltavo  had  written. 
Fortunately  there  was  nothing  in  it  which  betrayed 
the  great  secret  of  the  house,  but  it  was  enough, 
as  he  realized,  to  awaken  the  dormant  suspicion, 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  159 

even  supposing  it  was  dormant,  of  this  indefatigable 
detective. 

"  You  have  made  a  nice  mess  of  things,"  he  said 
to  Poltavo,  sternly ;  "  see  that  you  do  not  make 
a  greater.  We  will  forgive  you  once,  but  the  sec- 
ond attempt  will  be  fatal." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  distant  chime  of  Little  Bradley  church 
had  struck  one  o'clock,  when  T.  B.  Smith 
stepped  from  the  shadow  of  the  hedge  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Secret  House,  and  walked  slowly  toward 
the  road.  Two  men,  crouched  in  the  darkness,  rose 
silently  to  meet  him. 

"  I  think  I  have  found  a  place,"  said  T.  B.,  in  a 
low  voice.  "  As  I  thought,  there  are  electric  alarms 
on  the  top  of  the  walls,  and  electric  wires  threaded 
through  all  the  hedges.  There  is  a  break,  however, 
where,  I  think,  I  can  circumvent  the  alarm." 

He  led  the  way  back  to  the  place  from  which  he 
had  been  making  his  reconnaissance. 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  T.  B. 

He  touched  a  thin  twine-like  wire  with  his  finger. 
The  third  man  put  the  concentrated  ray  of  an  electric 
lamp  upon  it. 

"  I  can  make  another  circuit  for  this,"  he  said, 
160 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  161 

and  pulled  a  length  of  wire  from  his  pocket. 
Two  minutes  later,  thanks  to  quick  manipulation 
of  his  wire,  they  were  able  to  step  in  safety 
across  the  wall  and  drop  noiselessly  into  the 
grounds. 

"  We  shall  find  a  man  on  duty,"  whispered  T.  B. ; 
"  he  is  patrolling  the  house,  and  I  have  an  idea  that 
there  are  trip-wires  on  the  lawn." 

He  had  fixed  a  funnel-like  arrangement  to  the 
head  of  his  lamp,  and  now  he  carefully  scrutinized 
the  ground  as  he  walked  forward.  The  funnel  was 
so  fixed  that  it  showed  no  light  save  on  the  actual 
patch  of  ground  he  was  surveying. 

"  Here  is  one,"  he  said,  suddenly. 

The  party  stepped  cautiously  over  the  almost 
invisible  line  of  wire,  supported  a  few  inches  from 
the  ground  by  steel  uprights,  placed  at  regular 
intervals. 

"  They  fix  these  every  night  after  sunset;  I  have 
watched  them  doing  it,"  said  T.  B.  "  There  is 
another  line  nearer  the  house." 

They  found  this,  too,  and  carefully  negotiated 
it. 

"  Down !  "  whispered  T.  B.  suddenly,  and  the 
party  sank  flat  on  the  turf. 

Ela  for  a  moment  could  not  see  the  cause  for 
alarm,  but  presently  he  discerned  the  slow  moving 


162  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

figure  of  the  sentry  as  it  passed  between  them  and 
the  house.  The  man  was  walking  leisurely  along, 
and  even  in  the  starlight  they  could  see  the  short 
rifle  slung  at  his  shoulder.  They  waited  until  he 
had  disappeared  round  the  corner  of  the  house, 
and  then  crossed  the  remaining  space  of  lawn. 
T.  B.  had  been  carrying  a  little  canvas  bag,  and 
now  he  put  his  hand  inside  and  withdrew  by  the 
ears  a  struggling  rabbit. 

"  Little  friend,"  he  whispered,  "  You  must  be 
sacrificed  in  the  cause  of  scientific  criminal  investi- 
gation." 

He  mounted  the  steps  which  led  to  the  entrance 
hall.  The  steel-beaded  curtain  still  hung  before 
the  door  almost  brushing  the  mat  as  he  had 
seen  it.  He  released  the  rabbit,  and  the  startled 
beast,  after  a  vain  attempt  to  escape  back  to  the 
lawn,  went  with  hesitating  hop  on  to  the  mat,  and 
then,  at  a  threatening  gesture  from  T.  B.,  pushed 
his  nose  to  the  hanging  curtain  to  penetrate  his  way 
to  safety.  Instantly  as  he  touched  it  there  was 
a  quick  flicker  of  blue  light,  and  the  unfortunate 
animal  was  hurled  back  past  T.  B.  to  the  gravel 
path  below.  The  detective  descended  hastily  and 
picked  it  up.  It  was  quite  dead.  He  felt  the 
singed  hair  about  its  head,  and  murmured  a  sym.' 
pathetic  "  vale." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  163 

"  As  I  suspected,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  an 
electric  death-trap  for  anybody  trying  to  get  into 
the  house  that  way.  Now,  Johnson." 

The  third  man  was  busy  pulling  out  a  pair  of 
rubber  boots;  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  pair  of 
thick  rubber  gloves,  and  made  his  way  with  confi- 
dence up  the  steps.  He  leant  down  and  tried  to 
pull  the  mat  from  its  place,  but  that  was  impossible. 
He  gathered  up  the  beads  cautiously  with  his  hands ; 
he  was  free,  by  reason  of  his  boots  and  his  hand- 
covering,  from  the  danger  of  a  shock,  but  he  took 
good  care  that  no  portion  of  the  curtain  touched 
any  other  part  of  his  body.  Very  cautiously  he 
drew  the  bead  "  chick "  aside,  looping  it  back  by 
means  of  strong  rubber  bands,  and  then  T.  B.  went 
forward.  In  the  meantime  he  had  followed  the 
other's  example,  and  had  drawn  stout  rubber 
goloshes  over  his  feet  and  had  put  on  gloves  of  a 
similar  material.  The  lock  that  he  had  noticed 
earlier  in  the  day  was  of  a  commonplace  type; 
the  only  danger  was  that  the  inmates  had  taken 
the  precaution  of  bolting  or  chaining  the  door,  but 
apparently  they  v/ere  content  with  the  protection 
which  their  electric  curtain  might  reasonably  be 
expected  to  afford.  The  door  opened  after  a  brief 
manipulation  of  keys,  and  T.  B.  stepped  into  the 
hall.  He  listened,  all  his  senses  strained,  for  the 


164  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

sound  of  a  warning  bell,  but  none  came.  Ela  and 
the  other  man  followed. 

"Better  remain  in  the  hall,"  said  T.  B.  "We 
shall  have  to  chance  the  guard  not  noticing  what 
has  happened  to  the  curtain,  anyway;  perhaps  he 
will  not  be  round  for  some  time,"  he  added,  hope- 
fully. 

They  made  a  quick  scrutiny  of  the  hall,  and 
found  no  indication  of  cables  or  of  wires  which 
would  suggest  that  an  alarm  had  been  fixed. 
T.  B.  stole  carefully  up  the  stairs,  leaving  the  two 
men  to  guard  the  hall  below.  At  every  landing 
he  halted,  and  listened,  but  the  house  was  wrapped 
in  silence,  and  he  searched  the  third  floor  without 
mishap. 

He  recognized  the  corridor,  having  taken  very 
careful  note  of  certain  peculiarities,  and  a  scratch 
on  the  side  of  the  lift  door,  which  he  had  mentally 
noted  for  future  reference,  showed  him  he  was  on 
the  right  track. 

Unerringly  and  swiftly  he  passed  along  the  passage 
till  he  came  to  the  big  rosewood  doors  which  opened 
upon  the  invalid's  bedroom.  He  turned  the  handle 
gently,  it  yielded,  and  he  stepped  noiselessly  through 
the  door,  and  pushed  the  inner  door  cautiously. 
The  room  was  dimly  illuminated,  evidently  by  a 
night  light,  thought  T.  B.,  and  he  pressed  the  door 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  165 

farther  open  that  he  might  secure  a  better  view 
of  the  apartment,  and  then  he  gasped,  for  this 
was  not  the  room  he  had  been  in  before. 

It  was  a  sumptuously  arranged  bureau,  panelled 
in  rosewood,  and  set  about  with  costly  furniture. 
A  man  was  sitting  at  the  desk,  busily  writing  by 
the  light  of  a  table  lamp;  his  back  was  toward 
T.  B.  The  detective  pushed  the  door  farther  open, 
and  suddenly  the  man  at  the  desk  leapt  up,  and 
turning  round,  confronted  the  midnight  visitor. 

T.  B.  had  only  time  to  see  that  his  face  was  hidden 
behind  a  black  mask  which  extended  from  his  fore- 
head to  his  chin.  As  soon  as  he  saw  T.  B.  stand- 
ing in  the  doorway,  he  reached  out  his  hand. 
Instantly  the  room  was  in  darkness,  and  the 
door,  which  T.  B.  was  holding  ajar,  was  suddenly 
forced  back  as  if  by  an  irresistible  power,  flinging 
the  detective  into  the  corridor,  which  almost  simul- 
taneously was  flooded  with  light.  T.  B.  turned  to 
meet  the  smiling  face  of  Dr.  Fall. 

The  big  man,  with  his  white,  expressionless 
countenance,  was  regarding  him  gravely,  and  with 
amused  resentment. 

Where  he  had  come  from  T.  B.  could  only  con- 
jecture; he  had  appeared  as  if  by  magic  and  was 
fully  dressed. 


166  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  To  what  do  I  owe  the  honour  of  this  visit,  Mr. 
Smith  ?  "  he  said,  in  his  dry,  grim  way. 

"  A  spirit  of  curiosity,"  said  T.  B.,  coolly.  "  I 
was  anxious  to  secure  another  peep  at  your  Mr. 
Moole." 

"And  how  did  he  look?"  asked  the  other,  with 
a  faint  smile. 

"  Unfortunately,"  said  T.  B.,  "  I  have  mistaken 
the  floor,  and  instead  of  seeing  our  friend,  I  have 
unexpectedly  and  quite  unwittingly  interrupted  a 
gentleman  who,  for  reasons  best  known  to  himself, 
has  hidden  his  face." 

Dr.  Fall  frowned. 

"  I  do  not  quite  follow  you,"  he  said. 

"  Perhaps  if  I  were  to  follow  you  back  to  the 
room,"  said  T.  B.  good  humouredly,  "  you  might 
understand  better." 

He  heard  a  strange  wailing  sound  and  a  shiver- 
ing motion  beneath  his  feet,  as  though  a  Heavy 
traction  engine  were  passing  close  to  the  house. 

"What  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  unpleasant  consequences  of 
building  one's  house  over  a  disused  coal-mine," 
said  the  doctor  easily ;  "  but  as  regards  your  strange 
hallucination,"  he  went  on,  "  I  should  rather  like 
to  disabuse  your  mind  of  your  fantastic  vision." 

He  walked  slowly  back  to  the  room  which  T.  B. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  167 

had  quitted,  and  the  inner  door  yielded  to  his  touch. 
It  was  in  darkness.  Dr.  Fall  put  his  hand  inside 
the  room  and  there  was  a  click  of  a  switch. 

"Come  in,"  he  said,  and  T.  B.  stepped  into  the 
room. 

It  was  the  room  he  had  left  in  the  earlier  part 
of  the  day.  There  was  the  blue  square  of  carpet 
and  the  silver  bedstead,  and  the  same  yellow  face 
and  unwinking  eyes  of  the  patient.  The  walls  were 
panelled  in  myrtle,  the  same  electrolier  hung  from 
the  ceiling  as  he  had  seen  on  his  previous  visit. 
Smith  gasped,  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  secretary,  "  you  have  been 
the  victim  of  a  peculiar  and  unhappy  trick  of  eye- 
sight; in  fact,  Mr.  Smith,  may  I  suggest  that  you 
have  been  dreaming?  " 

"  You  may  suggest  just  what  you  like,"  said  T.  B. 
pleasantly.  "  I  should  like  to  see  the  room  below 
and  the  room  above." 

"With  pleasure,"  said  the  other;  "there  is  a 
storeroom  up  above  which  you  may  see  if  you  wish." 

He  led  the  way  upstairs,  unlocked  the  door  of 
the  room  immediately  over  that  which  they  had 
just  left,  and  entered.  The  room  was  bare,  and  the 
plain  deal  floor,  the  distempered  walls,  and  the 
high  skylight  showed  it  to  be  just  as  the  doctor  had 
described,  a  typical  storeroom. 


168  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  use  it,"  said  T.  B. 

"  We  are  very  tidy  people,"  smiled  the  doctoi ; 
"  and  now  you  shall  see  the  room  below." 

As  they  went  down  the  stairs  again  they  heard 
the  curious  wail,  and  T.  B.  experienced  a  tremulous 
jar  which  he  had  noted  before. 

"Unpleasant,  is  it  not?"  said  Dr.  Fall.  "I 
was  quite  alarmed  at  that  at  first,  but  it  has  no 
unpleasant  consequences." 

On  the  second  floor  he  entered  the  third  room, 
immediately  below  that  in  which  the  sick  Mr.  Moole 
was  lying.  He  unlocked  this  door  and  they  entered 
a  well- furnished  bedroom;  on  a  more  elaborate 
scale  than  that  which  T.  B.  had  seen  before. 

"  This  is  our  spare  bedroom,"  said  Dr.  Fall, 
easily;  "  we  seldom  use  it." 

T.  B.  slipped  into  the  apartment  and  made  a 
quick  scrutiny.  There  was  nothing  of  a  suspicious 
character  here. 

"  I  hope  you  are  satisfied  now,"  said  Dr.  Fall  as 
he  led  the  way  out,  "  and  that  your  two  friends 
below  are  not  growing  impatient." 

"  You  have  seen  them,  then,"  said  T.  B. 

"  I  have  seen  them,"  said  the  other  gravely. 
"  I  saw  them  a  few  moments  after  you  entered  the 
hall.  You  see,  Mr.  Smith,"  he  went  on,  "  we  do 
not  employ  anything  so  vulgar  as  bells  to  alarm 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  169 

us.  When  the  entrance  door  opens,  a  red  light 
shows  above  my  bed.  Unfortunately,  the  moment 
you  came  in  I  happened  to  be  in  an  adjoining  room 
at  work.  I  had  to  go  into  my  bedroom  to  get  a 
paper,  when  I  saw  the  light.  So,  though  I  am  per- 
haps inaccurate  in  saying  that  I  have  been  keeping 
you  under  observation  from  the  moment  you  arrived, 
there  was  little  you  did  which  was  not  witnessed.  I 
will  show  you,  if  you  will  be  good  enough  to  accom- 
pany me  to  my  room." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  said  T.  B. 

He  was  curious  to  learn  anything  that  the  house 
or  its  custodian  could  teach  him.  Dr.  Fall's  room 
was  on  the  first  floor,  immediately  over  the  entrance 
hall,  a  plain  office  with  a  door  leading  to  a  cosily, 
though  comparatively  expensively  furnished  bed- 
room. By  the  side  of  the  doctor's  bed  was  a  round 
pillar,  which  looked  for  all  the  world  like  one  of 
those  conventional  and  useless  articles  of  furniture 
which  the  suburban  housewife  employs  to  balance 
a  palm  upon. 

"  Look  down  into  that,"  said  the  doctor. 

T.  B.  obeyed.  It  was  quite  hollow,  and  a  little 
way  down  was  what  appeared  to  be  a  square  sheet 
of  silver  paper.  It  was  unlike  any  other  silver 
paper  because  it  appeared  to  be  alive.  He  could 
see  figures  standing  against  it,  two  figures  that  he 


170  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  as  Ela  and  Johnson. 

"  It  is  a  preparation  of  my  own,"  said  the  doctor. 
"  I  thought  of  taking  out  a  patent  for  it.  An 
adjustment  of  mirrors  throws  the  image  upon  a 
luminous  screen  which  is  so  sensitive  to  light  that 
it  can  record  an  impression  of  your  two  friends 
even  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the  hall." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  T.  B. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  accept  his  defeat 
as  graciously  as  possible.  For  baffled  he  was, 
caught  at  every  turn,  and  puzzled,  moreover,  by 
his  extraordinary  experience. 

"  You  will  find  some  difficulty  in  opening  the 
door,"  said  the  pleasant  Doctor  Fall. 

"  In  that  I  think  you  are  mistaken,"  smiled  T.  B. 

The  doctor  stopped  to  switch  on  the  light,  and 
the  two  discomforted  detectives  watched  the  scene 
curiously. 

"  We  have  left  the  door  ajar." 

"  Still  I  think  you  will  find  a  difficulty  in  getting 
out,"  insisted  the  other.  "  Open  the  door." 

Ela  pulled  at  it,  but  it  was  impossible  to  move 
the  heavy  oaken  panel. 

"  Electrically  controlled,"  said  the  doctor ;  "  and 
you  can  neither  move  it  one  way  nor  the  other.  It 
is  an  ingenious  idea  of  mine,  for  which  I  may  also 
apply  for  a  patent  one  of  these  days." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  171 

He  took  a  key  from  his  pocket  and  inserted  it  in 
an  almost  invisible  hole  in  the  oak  panelling  of 
the  hall;  instantly  the  door  opened  slowly. 

"  I  wish  you  a  very  good  night,"  said  Doctor 
Fall,  as  they  stood  on  the  steps.  "  I  hope  we  shall 
meet  again." 

"  You  may  be  sure,"  said  T.  B.  Smith,  grimly, 
"  that  we  shall." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

DORIS  GRAY  was  face  to  face  with  a  dilemma. 
She  stood  in  a  tragic  position;  even  now, 
she  could  not  be  sure  that  her  guardian  was  dead. 
But  dead  or  alive,  he  had  left  her  a  terrible  problem, 
for  terrible  it  seemed  to  her,  for  solution. 

She  liked  Frank  Doughton  well  enough,  but  she 
was  perhaps  too  young,  had  too  small  a  knowledge 
of  the  great  elements  of  life  to  appreciate  fully  her 
true  feelings  in  the  matter;  and  then  the  influence 
of  this  polished  man  of  the  world,  this  Count  of 
the  Roman  Empire  as  he  described  himself,  with 
his  stories  of  foreign  capitals,  his  easy  conversation, 
his  acquaintance  with  all  the  niceties  of  social 
intercourse,  had  made  a  profound  impression  upon 
her.  At  the  moment,  she  might  not  say  with  any 
certainty,  whether  she  preferred  the  young  English- 
man or  this  suave  man  of  the  world. 

The  balance  was  against  Frank,  and  the  command 

contained  in  the  will,  the  knowledge  that  she  must, 

172 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  173 

so  she  told  herself,  make  something  of  a  sacrifice, 
was  a  subject  for  resentment.  Not  even  the  sweet- 
est girl  in  the  world,  obeying  as  she  thought  the 
command  of  a  dead  man,  who  was  especially  fond 
and  proud  of  her,  could  be  compensated  for  the  fact 
that  he  had  laid  upon  her  his  dead  hands,  charging 
her  to  obey  a  command  which  might  very  easily 
be  repugnant  and  hateful  to  her. 

She  did  not,  in  truth,  wish  to  marry  anybody. 
She  could  well  afford  to  allow  the  question  of  her 
fortune  to  lapse ;  she  had  at  least  five  years  in  which 
to  make  up  her  mind,  as  to  how  she  felt  toward 
Frank  Doughton.  She  liked  him,  there  was  some- 
thing especially  invigorating  and  wholesome  in  his 
presence  and  in  his  very  attitude  towards  her. 
He  was  so  courteous,  so  kindly,  so  full  of  quick, 
strong  sympathy  and  yet — there  were  some  depths 
he  could  not  touch,  she  told  herself,  and  was  vague 
herself  as  to  what  those  depths  were. 

She  was  strolling  in  Green  Park  on  a  glorious 
April  morning,  in  a  complacent  mood,  for  the  trees 
were  in  fresh  green  bud  and  the  flower  beds  were  a 
blaze  of  colour,  when  she  met  Frank,  and  Frank  was 
so  obviously  exhilarated  that  something  of  his 
enthusiasm  was  conveyed  to  her.  He  saw  her 
before  she  had  seen  him,  and  came  with  quickening 
footsteps  toward  her. 


174  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  say,"  he  said  explosively,  "  I  have  some 
splendid  news !  " 

"  Let  us  sit  down,"  she  said,  with  a  kindly  smile, 
and  made  a  place  for  him  by  her  side  on  a  bench  near 
by.  "  Now,  what  is  this  wonderful  news?  " 

"  You  remember  Mr.  Farrington  gave  me  a  com- 
mission to  find  the  missing  heir  of  Tollington?" 

She  nodded. 

"  Well,  I  have  found  him,"  he  said,  triumphantly; 
"  it  is  an  extraordinary  thing,"  he  went  on,  "  that 
I  should  have  done  so,  because  I  am  not  a  detective. 
I  told  Mr.  Farrington  quite  a  long  time  ago*  that  I 
never  expected  to  make  any  discovery  which  would 
be  of  any  use  to  him.  You  see  Mr.  Farrington 
was  not  able  to  give  me  any  very  definite  data  to 
work  on.  It  appears  that  old  Tollington  had  a 
nephew,  the  son  of  his  dead  sister,  and  it  was  to  this 
nephew  that  his  fortune  was  left.  Tollington's 
sister  had  been  engaged  to  a  wealthy  Chicago  stock- 
broker, and  the  clay  before  the  wedding  she  had  run 
away  with  an  Englishman,  with  whom  her  family 
was  acquainted,  but  about  whom  they  knew  very 
little.  She  guessed  that  he  was  a  ne'er-do-well, 
who  had  come  out  to  the  States  to  redeem  his  fallen 
fortune.  But  he  was  not  a  common  adventurer 
apparently,  for  he  not  only  refused  to  communi- 
cate with  the  girl's  parents,  although  he  knew  they 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  175 

were  tremendously  wealthy,  but  he  never  allowed 
them  to  know  his  real  name.  It  appears  that  he 
was  in  Chicago  under  a  name  which  was  not  his 
own.  From  that  moment  they  lost  sight  of  him. 
In  a  roundabout  way  they  learned  that  he  had 
gone  back  to  England  and  that  he  had  by  his  own 
efforts  and  labours  established  himself  there.  This 
news  was  afterwards  confirmed.  The  girl  was  in 
the  habit  of  writing  regularly  to  her  parents,  giving 
neither  her  surname  nor  address.  They  answered 
through  the  columns  of  the  London  Times.  That 
is  how,  though  they  knew  where  she  was  situated, 
all  efforts  to  get  in  touch  with  her  proved  to  be 
unavailing;  and  when  her  parents  died,  and  her 
brother  renewed  his  search,  he  was  met  with  a 
blank  wall.  You  see,"  Frank  went  on,  a  little 
naively,  "  it  is  quite  impossible  to  discover  anybody 
when  fheir  name  is  not  even  known  to  one." 

"  I  see,"  smiled  the  girl;  "  and  have  you  succeeded 
where  all  these  people  have  failed  ?  " 

"  I  have  hardly  progressed  so  far  as  that,"  he 
laughed.  "  What  I  have  discovered  is  this :  that 
the  man,  who  seventy  years  ago  left  the  United 
States  with  the  sister  of  old  Tollington,  lived  for 
some  years  in  Great  Bradley." 

"  Great  Bradley !  "  she  said,  in  surprise ;  "  why, 
isn't  that  where  Lady  Constance  Dex  lives  ?  " 


176  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

He  nodded. 

"  Everybody  seems  to  live  there,"  he  said,  rue- 
fully; "even  our  friend,"  he  hesitated. 

"Our      friend?"     she     repeated,      inquiringly. 

"  Your  friend  Poltavo  is  there  now,"  he  said, 
"permanently  established  as  the  guest  of  Dr.  Fall. 
You  have  heard  of  the  Secret  House? — but  every- 
body in  England  has  heard  of  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  everybody  does  not  include 
me,"  she  smiled,  "but  go  on  with  your  story;  how 
did  you  find  that  he  lived  in  Great  Bradley  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  was  rather  a  case  of  luck,"  he  explained. 
"  You  see,  I  lived  some  years  in  Great  Bradley  my- 
self; that  is  where  I  first  met  your  uncle.  I  was 
a  little  boy  at  the  time.  But  it  wasn't  my  acquaint- 
ance with  Great  Bradley  which  helped  me.  Did 
you  see  in  the  paper  the  other  day  the  fact  that,  in 
pulling  down  an  old  post  office  building,  a  number 
of  letters  were  discovered  which  had  evidently 
slipped  through  the  floor  of  the  old  letter-box,  and 
had  not  been  delivered?" 

"  I  read  something  about  it,"  she  smiled;  "  forty 
or  fifty  years  old,  were  they  not?  " 

He  nodded. 

"  One  of  these,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  was  addressed 
to  Tollington,  and  was  signed  by  his  sister.  I  saw 
it  this  morning  at  the  General  Post  Office.  I  hap- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  177 

pened  to  spot  the  paragraph,  which  was  sent  in  to 
my  paper,  to  the  effect  that  these  letters  had  been 
undelivered  for  forty  or  fifty  years,  and  fortunately 
our  correspondent  at  Great  Bradley  had  secured  a 
list  of  the  addresses.  I  saw  that  one  of  these  was 
to  George  Tollington  of  Chicago,  and  on  the  off 
chance  I  went  down  to  Great  Bradley.  Thanks 
to  the  courtesy  of  the  Postmaster-General  I  was 
able  to  copy  the  letter.  It  was  a  short  one." 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  produced  a  sheet 
of  paper. 

"  DEAR  GEORGE,"  he  read,  "  this  is  just  to  tell  you 
that  we  are  quite  well  and  prosperous.  I  saw  your 
advertisement  in  the  Times  newspaper  and  was 
pleased  to  hear  from  you.  Henry  sends  to  you  his 
kindest  regards  and  duties. 

"  Your  loving  sister, 

"ANNIE." 

"Of  course,  it  is  not  much  to  go  on,"  he  said 
apologetically,  folding  the  letter  up  and  replacing 
it  in  his  pocket.  "  I  suppose  Great  Bradley  has 
had  a  constant  procession  of  Annies,  but  at  any 
rate  it  is  something." 

"  It  is  indeed,"  she  smiled. 

"  It  means  quite  a  lot  to  me,  or  at  least  it  did," 


178  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

he  corrected  himself.  "  I  had  an  arrangement  with 
your  uncle,  which  was  approved  by  the  other  trustees 
of  the  estate.  It  means  a  tremendous  lot,"  he 
repeated.  There  was  some  significance  in  his  tone 
and  she  looked  up  to  him  quickly. 

"  In  money  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  other  things,"  he  said,  lowering  his  voice. 
"  Doris,  I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  saying 
how  sorry  I  am  about  the  will;  it  is  hateful  that 
you  should  be  forced  by  the  wishes  of  your  guardian 
to  take  a  step  which  may  be  unpleasant  to  you." 

She  coloured  a  little  and  turned  her  eyes  away. 

"  I — I  do  not  want  to  take  advantage  of  that 
wish,"  he  went  on  awkwardly.  "  I  want  you  to 
be  happy.  I  want  you  to  come  to  me  for  no  other 
reason  than  the  only  one  that  is  worth  while;  that 
you  have  learned  to  care  for  me  as  I  care  for  you." 

Still  she  made  no  response  and  he  sighed  heavily. 

"  Some  day,"  he  said,  wistfully,  "  I  had  hoped  to 
bring  in  my  hands  all  the  material  advantages  which 
a  man  can  offer  to  the  woman  he  loves." 

"And  do  you  think  that  would  make  a  differ- 
ence ?  "  she  asked  quickly. 

"  It  would  make  this  difference,"  he  replied,  in 
the  same  quiet  tone,  "  that  you  could  not  think 
of  me  as  one  who  loved  you  for  your  fortune,  or 
one  who  hoped  to  gain  anything  from  the  marriage 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  179 

but  the  dearest,   sweetest  woman   in   the  world." 

The  eyes  which  she  turned  upon  him  were  bright 
with  unshed  tears. 

"  I  do  not  know  how  I  feel,  Frank,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  almost  as  much  a  mystery  to  myself  as  I 
must  be  to  you.  I  care  for  you  in  a  way,  but  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  care  for  you  as  you  would  like 
me  to." 

"Is  there  anybody  else?"  he  asked,  after  a 
pause. 

She  avoided  his  glance,  and  sat  twining  the  cord 
of  her  sunshade  about  her  fingers. 

"  There  is  nobody  else — definitely,"  she  said. 

"  Or  tentatively?  "  he  insisted. 

"  There  are  always  tentative  people  in  life,"  she 
smiled,  parrying  his  question.  "  I  think,  Frank, 
you  stand  as  great  a  chance  as  anybody."  She 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  I  speak  as  though  I 
were  some  wonderful  prize  to  be  bestowed ;  I  assure 
you  I  do  not  feel  at  all  like  that.  I  have  a  very 
humble  opinion  of  my  own  qualities.  I  do  not 
think  I  have  felt  so  meek  or  so  modest  about  my 
own  qualities  as  I  do  just  now." 

He  walked  with  her  to  the  end  of  the  park,  and 
saw  her  into  a  taxicab,  standing  on  the  pavement 
and  watching  as  she  was  whirled  into  the  envelop- 
ing traffic,  out  of  sight. 


i8o  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

As  for  Doris  Gray,  she  herself  was  suffering  from 
some  uneasiness  of  mind.  She  needed  a  shock  to 
make  her  realize  one  way  or  the  other  where  her 
affections  lay.  Poltavo  loomed  very  largely;  his 
face,  his  voice,  the  very  atmosphere  which  enveloped 
him,  was  constantly  present  with  her. 

She  reached  Brakely  Square  and  would  have 
passed  straight  up  to  her  room,  but  the  butler,  with 
an  air  of  importance,  stopped  her. 

"  I  have  a  letter  here,  miss.  It  is  very  urgent. 
The  messenger  asked  that  it  should  be  placed  in 
your  hands  at  the  earliest  possible  moment." 

She  took  the  letter  from  him.  It  was  addressed 
to  her  in  typewritten  characters.  She  stripped 
the  envelope  and  found  yet  another  inside.  On  it 
was  typewritten: 

"  Read  this  letter  when  you  are  absolutely  alone. 
Lock  the  door  and  be  sure  that  nobody  is  near  when 
you  read  it." 

She  raised  her  pretty  eyebrows.  What  mystery 
was  this?  she  asked.  Still,  she  was  curious  enough 
to  carry  out  the  request.  She  went  straight  to  her 
own  room,  opened  the  envelope,  and  took  out  a 
letter  containing  half  a  dozen  lines  of  writing. 

She  gasped,  and  went  white,  for  she  recognized 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  181 

the  hand  the  moment  her  eyes  fell  upon  it.     The 
letter  she  held  in  her  shaking  hand  ran : 

"  I  command  you  to  marry  Frank  Doughton 
within  seven  days.  My  whole  fortune  and  my  very 
life  may  depend  upon  this." 

It  was  signed  "  Gregory  Farrington,"  and  heavily 
underlined  beneath  the  signature  were  the  words, 
"  Burn  this,  as  you  value  my  safety." 


T.  B.  Smith  stepped  briskly  into  the  office  of 
his  chief  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

"  What  is  the  news  ?  "  asked  Sir  George,  looking 
up. 

"  I  can  tell  you  all  the  news  that  I  know,"  said 
T.  B.,  "  and  a  great  deal  that  I  do  not  know,  but 
only  surmise." 

"  Let  us  hear  the  facts  first  and  the  romance 
afterwards,"  growled  Sir  George,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair. 

"  Fact  one,"  said  T.  B.  drawing  up  a  chair  to 
the  table,  and  ticking  off  his  fact  on  the  first  finger 
of  his  hand,  "  is  that  Gregory  Farrington  is  alive. 
The  man  whose  body  was  picked  up  in  the  Thames 
is  undoubtedly  the  gentleman  who  was  shot  in  the 


182  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

raid  upon  the  Custom  House.  The  inference  is, 
that  Gregory  was  the  second  party  in  the  raid, 
and  that  the  attempt  to  secure  the  trunk  of  the 
admirable  Dr.  Goldworthy  was  carefully  conceived. 
The  box  apparently  contained  a  diary  which  gave 
away  Gregory  to  one  who  had  it  in  her  power  to 
do  him  an  immense  amount  of  harm." 

"You  refer  to  Lady  Constance  Dex?"  asked 
the  chief,  interestedly. 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"That  is  the  lady,"  he  said.  "Evidently  Far- 
rington  has  played  it  pretty  low  down  upon  her; 
was  responsible  for  the  death  of  her  lover,  and, 
moreover,  for  a  great  deal  of  her  unhappiness. 
Farrington  was  the  man  who  told  George  Doughton 
about  some  scandal  of  her  youth,  and  Doughton, 
that  high-spirited  man,  went  straight  off  to  Africa 
without  communicating  with  the  lady  or  discovering 
how  far  she  was  guilty  in  the  matter.  The  docu- 
ments in  the  box  would,  I  surmise,  prove  this  to 
Lady  Dex's  satisfaction,  and  Farrington,  who 
was  well  informed  through  his  agents  on  the  Coast, 
would  have  every  reason  for  preventing  these 
letters  getting  into  the  hands  of  a  woman  who  would 
be  remorseless  in  her  vengeance.'' 

"Is  that  fact  established?"  asked  the  chief. 

"  Pretty  well,"  said  T.  B. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  183 

He  took  some  papers  out  of  his  pocket  and  laid 
them  on  the  desk  before  him. 

"  I  have  now  got  a  copy  of  the  letter  which  the 
dead  lover  wrote  to  Lady  Constance.  I  need  not 
say,"  he  said  lightly,  "  how  I  obtained  possession 
of  this,  but  we  in  our  department  do  not 
hesitate  to  adopt  the  most  drastic  methods 


"  I  know  all  about  that,"  said  the  chief,  with 
a  little  smile ;  "  there  was  burglary  at  the  rectory 
two  days  ago,  and  I  presume  your  interesting  burg- 
lar was  your  own  Private  Sikes." 

"  Exactly,"  said  T.  B.  cheerfully.  "  Fact  num- 
ber two,"  he  went  on,  "  is  that  Gregory  Farrington 
and  the  international  blackmailer  named  Montague 
Fallock  are  one  and  the  same  person." 

The  chief  looked  up. 

"  You  do  not  mean  that  ?  " 

"I  do  indeed,"  said  T.  B.  "That  interesting 
paragraph  in  the  will  of  the  late  Mr.  Farrington 
confirms  this  view.  The  will  was  especially  pre- 
pared to  put  me  off  the  scent.  Letters  which  have 
been  received  by  eminent  personages  signed  *  Mon- 
tague Fallock '  and  demanding,  as  usual,  money 
with  threats  of  exposure  have  recently  been  re- 
ceived and  confirm  this  theory." 

"  Where  is  Montague  Fallock  now  ?  " 


184  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Montague  Fallock  is  an  inmate  of  the  Secret 
House,"  said  T.  B. 

"  It  seems  pretty  easy  to  take  him,  does  it  not?  " 
asked  Sir  George,  in  surprise.  "  Have  you  moved 
in  the  matter?" 

T.  B.  shook  his  head. 

"  It  is  not  so  easy  as  you  imagine,"  he  said. 
"  The  Secret  House  contains  more  secrets  than  we 
can  at  present  unravel.  It  was  built,  evidently 
and  obviously,  by  a  man  of  extraordinary  mechani- 
cal genius  as  Farrington  was,  and  the  primary 
object  with  which  it  was  built  was  to  enable  him 
on  some  future  occasion  to  make  his  escape.  I  am 
perfectly  certain  that  any  attempt  to  raid  the  house 
would  result  immediately  in  the  bird  flying.  We 
have  got  to  wait  patiently." 

"  What  I  cannot  understand,"  said  his  chief,  af- 
ter awhile,  "  is  why  he  should  make  a  dramatic  exit 
from  the  world." 

"  That  is  the  easiest  of  all  to  explain,"  smiled 
T.  B.  "  He  was  scared;  he  knew  that  I  identified 
him  with  the  missing  Fallock;  he  knew,  too,  that  I 
strongly  suspected  him  of  the  murder  of  the  two 
men  in  Brakely  Square.  Don't  you  see  the  whole 
thing  fits  together?  He  imported  from  various 
places  on  the  Continent,  and  at  various  periods, 
workmen  of  every  kind  to  complete  the  house  at 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  185 

Great  Bradley.  Although  he  began  his  work  thirty 
years  ago,  the  actual  finishing  touches  have  not  been 
made  until  within  the  last  few  years.  Those  finish- 
ing touches  were  the  most  essential.  I  have  dis- 
covered that  the  two  men  who  were  shot  in  Brakely 
Square,  were  separately  and  individually  employed 
in  making  certain  alterations  to  the  house  and  in- 
stalling certain  machinery. 

"  One  was  a  young  architect,  the  other  was  a 
general  utility  man.  They  were  unknown  to  each 
other;  each  did  his  separate  piece  of  work  and  was 
sent  back  to  his  native  land.  By  some  mischance 
they  succeeded  in  discovering  who  their  employer 
was,  and  they  both  arrived,  unfortunately  for  them, 
simultaneously  at  the  door  of  Fallock  or  Farring- 
ton's  house  with  the  object  of  blackmailing  him. 
Farrington  overheard  the  conversation;  he  ad- 
mitted as  much. 

"  He  stood  at  the  door,  saw  them  flourishing 
their  pistols  and  thought  it  was  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity to  rid  himself  of  a  very  serious  danger.  He 
shot  them  from  the  doorway,  closed  the  doorway 
behind  him,  and  returned  the  revolver  to  its  drawer 
in  his  study,  and  came  down  in  time  to  meet  the 
policeman  with  energetic  protestations  of  his  terror. 
I  smelt  the  powder  when  I  went  into  the  house; 
there  is  no  mistaking  the  smell  of  cordite  fired  in  so 


186  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

confined  a  place  as  the  hallway  of  a  house.  And 
Lady  Dex  was  also  there;  she  must  have  witnessed 
the  shooting." 

"Why  did  she  come?"  asked  the  chief. 

"  My  conjecture  is  that  she  came  either  to  con- 
front Farrington  with  evidence  of  his  complicity, 
which  is  unlikely,  or  else  to  secure  confirmation  of 
the  story  her  lover  told  in  his  last  letter." 

"  But  why  shouldn't  Farrington  disappear  in  an 
ordinary  way — or  why  need  he  disappear  at  all  ?  " 
asked  Sir  George.  "  He  had  plenty  of  credit  in  the 
city.  He  had  the  handling  of  his  niece's  fortune. 
He  could  have  blocked  out  your  suspicion ;  he  is  not 
the  kind  of  man  to  be  scared  of  a  little  thing  like 
that." 

"That  is  where  I  am  at  sea,"  said  T.  B.  "I 
must  confess  his  disappearance  is  not  consistent 
with  his  known  character.  He  certainly  had  the 
fortune  of  the  girl,  and  I  have  no  doubt  in  my  mind 
that  he  has  a  very  genuine  affection  for  his  niece. 
Her  inheritance,  by  the  way,  falls  due  next  month; 
I  do  not  suppose  that  had  anything  to  do  with  it. 
If  he  had  robbed  her  of  it,  or  he  had  dissipated  this 
money  which  was  left  in  his  care,  one  could  have 
understood  it,  but  the  fact  that  he  is  dead  will  not 
restore  the  fortune  if  it  is  gone." 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  the  chief. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  187 

"  About  Farrington?  "  asked  T.  B.  "  I  am  hav- 
ing the  house  kept  under  observation,  and  I  am  tak- 
ing whatever  precautions  I  can  to  prevent  our 
friend  from  being  scared.  I  am  even  attempting  to 
lure  him  into  the  open.  Once  I  can  catch  him  out- 
side of  the  Secret  House,  I  think  he  will  be  a  clever 
man  to  escape." 

"And  Poltavo?" 

"  He  is  in  town,"  said  T.  B.  "  I  think  he  will 
be  a  fairly  easy  man  to  circumvent;  he  is  obviously 
acting  now  as  the  agent  of  our  friend  Farrington, 
and  he  is  horribly  proud  of  himself ! " 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AS  T.  B.  had  said,  Poltavo  had  returned  from 
his  brief  sojourn  in  Great  Bradley,  and 
emerged  into  society  a  new  and  more  radiant 
being  than  ever  he  had  been  before. 

There  had  always  been  some  doubt  as  to  the 
Count's  exact  financial  position,  and  cautious  hos- 
tesses had  hesitated  before  they  had  invited  this 
plausible  and  polished  man  to  their  social  functions. 
There  were  whispers  adverse  as  to  his  standing; 
there  were  even  bold  people  who  called  into  question 
his  right  to  employ  the  title  which  graced  his  visit- 
ing cards.  There  were  half  a  dozen  Poltavos  in 
the  Almanack  De  Gotha,  any  one  of  whom  might 
have  been  Ernesto,  for  so  vague  is  the  Polish 
hierarchy  that  it  was  impossible  to  fix  him  to  any 
particular  family,  and  he  himself  answered  careless 
inquiries  with  a  cryptic  smile  which  might  have 
meant  anything. 

But  with  his  return  to  London,  after  his  brief 
188 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  189 

absence,  there  was  no  excuse  for  any  hostess,  even 
the  most  sceptical,  in  refusing  to  admit  him  to  social 
equality  on  the  ground  of  poverty.  The  very  day 
he  returned  he  acquired  the  lease  of  a  house  in  Bur- 
lington Gardens,  purchased  two  motor-cars,  paying 
cash  down  for  an  early  delivery,  gave  orders  left 
and  right  for  the  enrichment  of  his  person  and  his 
domicile,  and  in  forty-eight  hours  had  established 
himself  fn  a  certain  mode  of  living  which  suggested 
that  he  had  never  known  any  other. 

He  had  had  his  lesson  and  had  profited  thereby. 
He  had  experienced  an  unpleasant  fright,  though 
he  might  not  admit  it  to  Dr.  Fall  and  his  master; 
it  was  nevertheless  a  fact  that,  realizing  as  he  did 
that  he  had  stood  face  to  face  with  a  particularly 
unpleasant  death,  he  had  been  seized  by  a  panic 
which  had  destroyed  his  ordinary  equilibrium. 

"  You  may  trust  me,  my  friend,"  he  muttered 
to  himself,  as  he  sorted  over  the  papers  on  his  brand- 
new  desk  in  his  brand-new  study,  in  a  house  which 
was  still  redolent  of  the  painter's  art  and  presence. 
"  You  may  trust  me  just  so  long  as  I  find  it  con- 
venient for  you  to  trust  me,  but  you  may  be  sure 
that  never  again  will  I  give  you  the  benefit  of  my 
presence  in  the  Secret  House." 

He  had  come  back  with  .a  large  sum  of  money 
to  carry  out  his  employer's  plans.  There  were  a 


190  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

hundred  agents  through  the  country,  particulars 
of  whom  Poltavo  now  had  in  his  possession.  Inno- 
cent agents,  and  guilty  agents ;  agents  in  high  places 
and  active  agents  in  the  servants'  hall.  Un- 
doubtedly Gossip's  Corner  was  a  useful  institu- 
tion. 

Farrington  had  not  made  a  great  deal  of  money 
from  its  sale;  indeed,  as  often  as  not,  it  showed  a 
dead  loss  every  year.  But  he  paid  well  for  contri- 
butions which  were  sent  to  him,  and  offered  a  price, 
which  exceeded  the  standard  rate  of  pay,  for  such 
paragraphs  as  were  acceptable. 

Men  and  women,  with  a  malicious  desire  to  score 
off  some  enemy,  would  send  him  items  which  the 
newspapers  would  publish  if  they  concerned  some- 
body who  might  not  be  bled.  Many  of  these  facts 
in  an  amended  form  were,  in  fact,  printed. 

But  more  often  than  not  the  paragraphs  and 
articles  which  came  to  the  unknown  editor  dealt 
with  scandal  which  it  was  impossible  to  put  into 
print.  Nevertheless,  the  informant  would  be  re- 
warded. In  some  far-away  country  home  a  treach- 
erous servant  would  receive  postal  orders  to  his  or 
her  great  delight,  but  the  news  she  or  he  had  sent 
in  their  malice,  a  tit-bit  concerning  some  poor  erring 
woman  or  some  foolish  man,  would  never  see  the 
light  of  day,  and  the  contributor  might  1ook  in 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  191 

vain  for  the  spicy  paragraph  which  had  been  com- 
posed with  such  labour. 

The  unfortunate  subjects  of  domestic  treachery 
would  receive  in  a  day  or  two  a  letter  from  the 
mysterious  Montague  Fallock,  retailing,  to  their 
horror,  those  precious  secrets  which  they  had  imag- 
ined none  knew  but  themselves.  They  would  not 
associate  the  gossipy  little  rag,  which  sometimes 
found  its  way  to  the  servants'  hall,  with  the  magnif- 
icent demand  of  this  prince  of  blackmailers,  and 
more  often  than  not  they  would  pay  to  the  utmost 
of  their  ability  to  avoid  exposure. 

It  was  not  only  the  servants'  hall  which  supplied 
Montague  Fallock  with  all  the  material  for  his 
dastardly  work.  There  were  men  scarcely  deserv- 
ing the  name,  and  women  lost  to  all  sense  of  honour, 
who  found  in  this  little  journal  means  by  which 
they  could  "  come  back  "  at  those  favoured  people 
who  had  offered  them  directly  or  indirectly 
some  slight  offence.  Sometimes  the  communication 
would  reach  the  Gossip  anonymously,  but  if  the 
facts  retailed  were  sufficiently  promising,  one  of 
Fallock's  investigators  would  be  told  off  to  discover 
how  much  truth  there  was  in  it.  A  bland  letter 
would  follow,  and  the  wretched  victim  would  emerge 
from  the  transaction  the  poorer  in  pocket  and  often 
in  health. 


192  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

For  this  remorseless  and  ruthless  man  destroyed 
more  than  fortunes;  he  trafficked  in  human  lives. 
There  had  been  half  a  dozen  mysterious  suicides 
which  had  been  investigated  by  Scotland  Yard, 
and  found  directly  traceable  to  letters  received  in 
the  morning,  and  burnt  by  the  despairing  victim 
before  his  untimely  and  violent  departure  from  life. 

The  office  of  the  paper  was  situated  at  the  top  of 
a  building  in  Fleet  Street ;  one  back  room  comprised 
the  whole  of  its  editorial  space,  and  one  dour  man 
its  entire  staff.  It  was  his  duty  to  receive  the 
correspondence  as  it  came  and  to  convey  it  to  the 
cloakroom  of  a  London  station.  An  hour  later  it 
would  be  called  for  by  a  messenger  and  transferred 
to  another  cloakroom.  Eventually  it  would  arrive 
in  the  possession  of  the  man  who  was  responsible 
for  the  contents  of  the  paper.  Many  of  these  let- 
ters contained  contributions  in  the  ordinary  way  of 
business,  a  story  or  two  contributed  by  a  more  or 
less  well-known  writer.  Fallock,  or  Farrington, 
needed  these  outside  contributions,  not  only  to  give 
the  newspaper  a  verisimilitude  of  genuineness,  but 
also  to  fill  the  columns  of  the  journal. 

He  himself  devoted  his  energies  to  two  pages  of 
shrewdly  edited  tit-bits  of  information  about  the 
great.  They  were  carefully  written,  often  devoid 
of  any  reference  to  the  person  whom  they  affected, 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  193 

and  were  more  or  less  innocuous.  But  in  every 
batch  of  letters  there  were  always  one  or  two  which 
gave  the  master  blackmailer  an  opportunity  for 
extracting  money  from  people,  who  had  been 
betrayed  by  servants  or  friends.  There  was  a 
standing  offer  in  the  Gossip  of  five  guineas  for  any 
paragraph  which  might  be  useful  to  the  editor,  and 
it  is  a  commentary  upon  the  morality  of  human 
nature  that  there  were  times  when  Farrington  paid 
out  nearly  a  thousand  pounds  a  week  for  the  infor- 
mation which  his  unscrupulous  contributors  gave 
him. 

There  was  work  here  for  Poltavo;  he  was  an 
accomplished  scholar,  and  a  shrewd  man  of  affairs. 
If  Farrington  had  been  forced  to  accept  his  service, 
having  accepted  them,  he  could  do  no  less  than  ad- 
mit the  wisdom  of  his  choice.  In  his  big  study, 
with  the  door  locked,  Poltavo  carefully  sorted  the 
correspondence,  thinking  the  while. 

If  he  played  his  cards  well  he  knew  his  future 
was  assured.  The  consequence  of  his  present  em- 
ployment, the  misery  it  might  bring  to  the  innocent 
and  to  the  foolishly  guilty  alike,  did  not  greatly 
trouble  him ;  he  was  perfectly  satisfied  with  his  own 
position  in  the  matter.  He  had  found  a  means  of 
livelihood,  which  offered  enormous  rewards  and  the 
minimum  of  risk.  In  his  brief  stay  at  the  Secret 


194  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

House,  Farrington  had  impressed  upon  him  the 
necessity  for  respecting  trifles. 

"  If  you  can  make  five  shilings  out  of  a  working 
man,"  was  his  dictum,  "make  it.  We  cannot  af- 
ford to  despise  the  smallest  amount,"  and  in  conse- 
quence Poltavo  was  paying  as  much  attention  to  the 
ill-written  and  illiterate  scrawls  which  came  from 
the  East  End  of  London,  as  he  was  to  the  equally 
illiterate  efforts  of  the  under-butler,  describing  an 
error  of  his  master's  in  a  northern  ducal  seat.  Pol- 
tavo went  through  the  letters  systematically,  putting 
this  epistle  to  the  right,  and  that  to  the  left;  this 
to  make  food  for  the  newspaper;  that,  as  a  subject 
for  further  operations.  Presently  he  stopped  and 
looked  up  at  the  ceiling. 

"  So  she  must  marry  Frank  Doughton  within  a 
week,"  he  said  to  himself  in  wonder. 

Yes,  Farrington  had  insisted  upon  carrying  out 
his  plans,  knowing  the  power  he  held,  and  he,  Pol- 
tavo, had  accepted  the  ultimatum  in  all  meekness 
of  spirit. 

"  I  must  be  losing  my  nerve,"  he  muttered. 
"  Married  in  a  week !  Am  I  to  give  her  up,  this 
gracious,  beautiful  girl — with  her  future,  or  with- 
out her  fortune  ?  " 

He  smiled,  and  it  was  not  a  pleasant  smile  to  see. 
"  No,  my  friend,  I  think  you  have  gone  a  little  too 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  195 

far.  You  depended  too  much  upon  my  acquies- 
cence. Ernesto,  mon  ami,  you  have  to  do  some 
quick  thinking  between  now  and  next  Monday." 

A  telephone  buzzed  at  his  elbow,  and  he  took  it 
off  and  listened. 

"  Yes  ?  "  he  asked,  and  then  he  recognized  the 
speaker's  voice,  and  his  voice  went  soft  and  caress- 
ing, for  it  was  the  voice  of  Doris  Gray  that  he  heard. 

"Can  you  see  me  to-morrow?"  she  asked. 

"  I  can  see  you  to-day,  my  lady,  at  once,  if  you 
wish  it,"  he  said,  lightly. 

There  was  a  little  hesitation  at  the  other  end  of 
the  wire. 

"  If  you  could,  I  should  feel  glad,"  she  said.  "  I 
am  rather  troubled." 

"  Not  seriously,  I  hope  ?  "  he  asked,  anxiously. 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  some  one,"  she  said, 
meaningly. 

"  I  think  I  understand,"  he  replied ;  "  some  one 
wishes  you  to  do  a  thing  which  is  a  repugnant  to 
you." 

"  I  cannot  say  that,"  she  said,  and  there  was 
despair  in  her  voice ;  "  all  I  know  is  that  I  am  be- 
wildered by  the  turn  events  have  taken.  Do  you 
know  the  contents  of  the  letter?  " 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  gently ;  "  it  was  my  misfor- 
tune to  be  the  bearer  of  the  communication." 


196  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  What  do  you  think?  "  she  asked,  after  a  while. 

"  You  know  what  I  think,"  he  said,  passionately. 
"  Can  you  expect  me  to  agree  to  this  ?  " 

The  intensity  of  his  voice  frightened  her,  and 
she  rapidly  strove  to  bring  him  down  to  a  condition 
of  normality. 

"  Come  to-morrow,"  she  said,  hastily.  "  I 
would  like  to  talk  it  over  with  you." 

"  I  will  come  at  once,"  he  said. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  better  not,"  she  hesitated. 

"  I  am  coming  at  once,"  he  said,  firmly,  and  hung 
up  the  receiver. 

In  that  moment  of  resentment  against  the  tyranny 
of  his  employer,  he  forgot  all  the  dangers  which  the 
Secret  House  threatened;  all  its  swift  and  wicked 
vengeance.  He  only  knew,  with  the  instinct  of  a 
beast  of  prey  who  saw  its  quarry  stolen  under  its 
very  eyes,  the  loss  which  this  man  was  inflicting 
upon  him.  Five  minutes  later  he  was  in  Brakely 
Square  with  the  girl.  She  was  pale  and  worried; 
there  were  dark  circles  round  her  eyes  which  spoke 
eloquently  of  a  sleepless  night. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  do,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
very  fond  of  Frank.  I  can  speak  to  you,  can  I  not, 
Count  Poltavo?" 

"  You  may  confide  in  me  absolutely,"  he  said, 
gravely. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  197 

"  And  yet  I  am  not  so  fond  of  him,"  she  went  on, 
"  that  I  can  marry  him  yet." 

w  Then  why  do  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  How  can  I  cisobey  this  ?  "  She  held  the  letter 
out. 

He  took  it  from  her  hand  with  a  little  smile, 
walked  to  the  fireplace  and  dropped  it  gently  upon 
the  glowing  coals. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  not  carrying  out  instruc- 
tions," he  said,  playfully. 

There  was  something  in  this  action  which  chilled 
her;  he  was  thinking  more  of  his  safety  and  his 
duty  to  Farrington  than  he  was  of  her,  she  thought : 
a  curiously  inconsistent  view  to  take  in  all  the  cir- 
cumstances, but  it  was  one  which  had  an  effect  upon 
her  after  actions. 

"  Now  listen  to  me,"  he  said,  with  his  kindly 
smile ;  "  you  have  not  to  trouble  about  this ;  you  are 
to  go  your  own  way  and  allow  me  to  make  it  right 
with  Farrington.  He  is  a  very  headstrong  and 
ambitious  man,  and  there  is  some  reason  perhaps 
why  he  should  want  you  to  marry  Doughton,  but 
as  to  that  I  will  gain  a  little  more  information.  In 
the  meantime  you  are  to  dismiss  the  matter  from 
your  mind,  leaving  everything  to  me." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  do  that,"  she  said.     "  Un- 


198  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

less  I  have  a  letter  from  my  guardian  expressing 
wishes  to  the  contrary,  I  must  carry  out  his  desires. 
It  is  dreadful — dreadful," — she  wrung  her  hands 
piteously, — "  that  I  should  be  placed  in  this 
wretched  position.  How  can  I  help  him  by  marry- 
ing Frank  Doughton?  How  can  I  save  him — can 
you  tell  me  ?  " 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  Have  you  communicated  with  Mr.  Doughton  ?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  I  sent  him  a  letter,"  she  hesitated.  "  I  have 
kept  a  draft  of  it;  would  you  like  to  see  it?  " 

A  little  shade  of  bitter  anger  swept  across  his 
face,  but  with  an  effort  he  mastered  himself. 

"  I  should,"  he  said,  evenly. 

She  handed  the  sheet  of  paper  to  him. 

"  DEAR  FRANK/'  it  ran,  "  for  some  reason  which 
I  cannot  explain  to  you,  it  is  necessary  that  the 
marriage  which  my  uncle  desired  should  take  place 
within  the  next  week.  You  know  my  feelings 
towards  you;  that  I  do  not  love  you,  and  that 
if  it  were  left  to  my  own  wishes  this  marriage  would 
not  take  place,  but  for  a  reason  which  I  cannot  at 
the  moment  give  you  I  must  act  contrary  to  my  own 
wishes.  This  is  not  a  gracious  nor  an  easy  thing 
to  say  to  you,  but  I  know  you  well  enough,  with 
your  large,  generous  heart  and  your  kindly  nature, 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  199 

to  realize  that  you  will  understand  something  of 
the  turmoil  of  feelings  which  at  present  dominate 
my  heart." 

Poltavo  finished  reading,  and  put  the  letter  back 
on  the  table;  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
without  saying  a  word,  then  he  turned  on  her  sud- 
denly. 

"  Madonna !  "  he  said,  in  the  liquid  Southern 
accents  of  his — he  had  spent  his  early  life  in  Italy 
and  the  address  came  naturally  to  him — "  if  Frank 
Doughton  were  I,  would  you  hesitate  ?  " 

A  look  of  alarm  came  into  the  girl's  eyes;  he  saw 
then  his  mistake.  He  had  confounded  her  response 
to  his  sympathy  with  a  deeper  feeling  which  she  did 
not  possess.  In  that  one  glimpse  he  saw  more  than 
she  knew  herself,  that  of  the  two  Frank  was  the 
preferable.  He  raised  his  hand  and  arrested  her 
stammering  speech. 

"  There  is  no  need  to  tell  me,"  he  smiled ;  "  per- 
haps some  day  you  will  realize  that  the  love  Count 
Poltavo  offered  you  was  the  greatest  compliment 
that  has  ever  been  paid  to  you,  for  you  have  inspired 
the  one  passion  of  my  life  which  is  without  base- 
ness and  without  ulterior  motives." 

He  said  this  in  a  tremulous  voice,  and  possibly 
he  believed  it.  He  had  said  as  much  before  to 
women  whom  he  had  long  since  forgotten,  but  who 


200  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

carried  the  memory  of  his  wicked  face  to  their 
graves. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  briskly,  "  we  must  wait  for  Mr. 
Doughton's  answer." 

"  He  has  already  answered,"  she  said ;  "  he 
telephoned  me." 

He  smiled. 

"  How  typically  English,  almost  American,  in  his 
hustle ;  and  when  is  the  happy  event  to  take  place  ?  " 
he  bantered. 

"  Oh,  please,  don't,  don't," — she  raised  her  hands 
and  covered  her  face, — "  I  hardly  know  that,  even 
now,  I  have  the  strength  to  carry  out  my  uncle's 
wishes." 

"  But  when  ?  "  he  asked,  more  soberly. 

"  In  three  days.  Frank  is  getting  a  special 
licence;  we  are "  She  hesitated,  and  he  waited. 

"  We  are  going  to  Paris,"  she  said,  with  a  pink 
flush  in  her  face,  "  but  Frank  wishes  that  we  shall 
live  " — she  stopped  again,  and  then  went  on  almost 
defiantly — "  that  we  shall  live  apart,  although  we 
shall  not  be  able  to  preserve  that  fact  a  secret." 

He  nodded. 

"  I  understand,"  he  said ;  "  therein  Mr.  Doughton 
shows  an  innate  delicacy,  which  I  greatly  appre- 
ciate." 

Again  that  little  sense  of  resentment  swept  through 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  201 

her;  the  patronage  in  his  tone,  the  indefinable 
suggestion  of  possession  was,  she  thought,  uncalled 
for.  That  he  should  approve  of  Frank  in  that 
possessive  manner  was  not  far  removed  from  an 
impertinence. 

"  Have  you  thought  ?  "  he  asked,  after  a  while, 
"  what  would  happen  if  you  did  not  marry  Frank 
Doughton  in  accordance  with  your  uncle's  wishes — 
what  terrible  calamity  would  fall  upon  your  uncle  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  said,  frankly.  "  I  am  only 
beginning  to  get  a  dim  idea  of  Mr.  Farrington's  real 
character.  I  always  thought  he  was  a  kindly  and 

considerate  man ;  now  I  know  him  to  be "  She 

stopped,  and  Poltavo  supplied  her  deficiency  of 
speech. 

"  You  know  him  to  be  a  criminal,"  he  smiled,  "  a 
man  who  has  for  years  been  playing  upon  the  fears 
and  the  credulity  of  his  fellow-creatures.  That 
must  have  been  a  shocking  discovery,  Miss  Gray, 
but  at  least  you  will  acquit  him  of  having  stolen 
your  fortune." 

"  It  is  all  very  terrible,"  she  said ;  "  somehow 
every  day  brings  it  to  me.  My  aunt,  Lady  Dins- 
more,  was  right." 

"  Ladv  Dinsmore  is  always  right,"  he  said, 
lightly;  "it  is  one  of  the  privileges  of  her  age  and 


202  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

position.     But   in   what   respect   was   she   right  ? " 

The  girl  shook  her  head. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  is  loyal  of  me  to  tell  you,  but  I 
must.  She  always  thought  Mr.  Farrington  was 
engaged  in  some  shady  business  and  has  warned  me 
time  after  time." 

"  An  admirable  woman,"  said  Poltavo,  with  a 
sneer. 

"  In  three  days,"  he  went  on,  thoughtfully. 
"  Well,  much  may  happen  in  three  days.  I  must 
confess  that  I  am  anxious  to  know  what  would  be 
the  result  of  this  marriage  not  taking  place." 

He  did  not  wait  for  an  expression  of  her  views, 
but  with  a  curt  little  bow  he  ushered  himself  out  of 
the  room. 

"  Three  days,"  he  found  himself  repeating,  as  he 
made  his  way  back  to  his  house.  "  Why  should 
Farrington  be  in  such  a  frantic  hurry  to  marry  the 
girl  off,  and  why  should  he  have  chosen  this  penni- 
less reporter?  " 

This  was  a  matter  which  required  a  great  deal  of 
examination. 

Two  of  those  three  days  were  dream  days  for 
Frank  Doughton;  he  could  not  believe  it  possible 
that  such  a  fortune  could  be  his.  But  with  his  joy 
there  ran  the  knowledge  that  he  was  marrying  a 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  203 

woman    who    had    no    desire    for    such    a    union. 

But  she  would  learn  to  love  him;  so  he  promised 
himself  in  his  optimism  and  the  assurance  of  his 
own  love.  He  had  unbounded  faith  in  himself , 
and  was  working  hard  in  these  days,  not  only  upon 
his  stories,  but  upon  the  clue  which  the  discovery 
of  the  belated  letter  afforded  him.  He  had  care- 
fully gone  through  the  parish  list  to  discover  the 
Ajnnies  of  the  past  fifty  years.  In  this  he  was 
somewhat  handicapped  by  the  fact  that  there  must 
have  been  hundreds  of  Annies  who  enjoyed  no 
separate  existence,  married  women  who  had  no 
property  qualification  to  appear  on  ratepayers'  lists; 
anonymous  Annies,  who  perhaps  employed  that 
as  a  pet  name,  instead  of  the  name  with  which  they 
had  been  christened. 

He  had  one  or  two  clues  and  was  following  these 
industriously.  For  the  moment,  however,  he  must 
drop  this  work  and  concentrate  his  mind  upon  the 
tremendous  and  remarkable  business  which  his 
coming  marriage  involved.  He  had  a  series  of 
articles  to  write  for  the  Monitor,  and  he  applied 
himself  feverishly  to  this  work. 

It  was  two  nights  before  his  marriage  that  he 
carried  the  last  of  his  work  to  the  great  newspaper 
office  on  the  Thames  Embankment,  and  delivered 
his  manuscript  in  person  to  the  editor. 


204  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

That  smiling  man  offered  his  congratulations  to 
the  embarrassed  youth. 

"  I  suppose  we  shall  not  be  looking  for  any 
articles  from  you  for  quite  a  long  time,"  he  said, 
at  parting. 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  the  other.  "  I  do  not  see  why 
I  should  starve  because  I  am  married.  My  wife 
will  be  a  very  rich  woman,"  he  said  quietly,  "  but 
so  far  as  I  am  concerned  that  will  make  no  differ- 
ence; I  do  not  intend  taking  one  penny  of  her 
fortune." 

The  journalist  clapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Good  lad,"  he  said,  approvingly ;  "  the  man  who 
lives  on  his  wife's  income  is  a  man  who  has  ceased 
to  live." 

"  That  sounds  like  an  epigram,"  smiled  Frank. 

He  looked  at  his  watch  as  he  descended  the  stairs. 
It  was  nine  o'clock  and  he  had  not  dined ;  he  would 
go  up  to  an  eating  house  in  Soho  and  have  his  frugal 
meal  before  he  retired  for  the  night.  He  had  had 
a  heavy  day,  and  a  heavier  day  threatened  on  the 
morrow.  Outside  the  newspaper  office  was  a  hand- 
some new  car,  its  lacquer  work  shining  in  the 
electric  light.  Frank  was  passing  when  the 
chauffeur  called  him. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  he  said,  touching  his  cap, 
"  are  you  Mr.  Frank  Doughton?  " 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  205 

"  That  is  my  name,"  said  Frank,  in  surprise,  for 
he  did  not  recognize  the  man. 

"  I  have  been  asked  to  call  and  pick  you  up,  sir." 

"  Pick  me  up  ?  "  asked  the  astonished  Frank — 
"by  whom?" 

"  By  Sir  George  Frederick,"  said  the  man,  re- 
spectfully. 

Frank  knew  the  name  of  the  member  of  Parlia- 
ment and  puzzled  his  brain  as  to  whether  he  had  ever 
met  him. 

"  But  what  does  Sir  George  want  with  me  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  He  wanted  five  minutes'  conversation  with 
you,  sir,"  said  the  man. 

It  would  have  been  churlish  to  have  refused  the 
member's  request;  besides,  the  errand  would  take 
him  partly  on  his  way.  He  opened  the  door  of  the 
landaulet  and  stepped  in,  and  as  the  door  swung 
to  behind  him,  he  found  he  was  not  alone  in  the  car. 

"  What  is  the "  he  began,  when  a  powerful 

hand  gripped  his  throat,  and  he  was  swung  back- 
ward on  the  padded  seat  as  the  car  moved  slowly 
forward  and,  gathering  speed  as  it  went,  flew  along 
the  Thames  Embankment  with  its  prisoner. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  the  rectory  at  Great  Bradley,  Lady  Constance 
Dex  arose  from  a  sleepless  night  to  confront 
her  placid  brother  at  the  breakfast  table.  The 
Reverend  Jeremiah  Bangley,  a  stout  and  easy  man, 
who  spent  as  much  of  his  time  in  London  as  in  his 
rectory,  was  frankly  nonplussed  by  the  apparition. 
He  was  one  of  those  men,  common  enough,  who 
accept  the  most  extraordinary  happenings  as  being 
part  of  life's  normal  round.  An  earthquake  in  Little 
Bradley  which  swallowed  up  his  church  and  the 
major  portion  of  his  congregation  would  not  have 
interested  him  any  more  than  the  budding  of  the 
trees,  or  a  sudden  arrival  of  flower  life  in  his  big 
walled  garden.  Now,  however,  he  was  obviously 
astonished. 

"What  brings  you  to  breakfast,  Constance?7' 
he  asked.  "  I  have  not  seen  you  at  this  table  for 
many  years." 

"  I  could  not  sleep,"  she  said,  as  she  helped  her- 
206 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  207 

self  at  the  sideboard  to  a  crisp  morsel  of  bacon. 
"  I  think  I  will  take  my  writing  pad  to  Moor 
Cottage." 

He  pursed  his  lips,  this  easy  going  rector  of  Little 
Bradley. 

"  I  have  always  thought,"  he  said,  "  that  Moor 
Cottage  was  not  the  most  desirable  gift  the  late 
Mr.  Farrington  could  have  made  to  you."  He 
paused,  to  allow  her  a  rejoinder,  but  as  she  made  no 
reply,  he  went  on :  "It  is  isolated,  standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  moor,  away  from  the  ordinary  track  of 
people.  I  am  always  scared,  my  dear  Constance, 
that  one  of  these  days  you  will  have  some  wretched 
trarnp,  or  a  person  of  the  criminal  classes,  causing 
you  a  great  deal  of  distress  and  no  little  incon- 
venience." 

There  was  much  of  truth  in  what  he  said.  Moor 
Cottage,  a  pretty  little  one-storied  dwelling,  had 
been  built  by  the  owner  of  the  Secret  House  at  the 
same  time  that  the  house  itself  had  been  erected. 
It  was  intended,  so  the  builder  said,  to  serve  the 
purpose  of  a  summer  house,  and  certainly  it  offered 
seclusion,  for  it  was  placed  on  the  edge  of  the  moor, 
approached  by  a  by-road  which  was  scarcely  ever 
traversed,  since  Bradley  mines  had  been  worked  out 
and  abandoned. 

Many  years  ago  when  the  earth  beneath  the  moor 


208  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

had  been  tunnelled  left  and  right  by  the  seekers 
after  tin  and  lead,  Moor  Cottage  might  have  stood 
in  the  centre  of  a  hive  of  industry.  The  ramshackle 
remains  of  the  miners'  cottage  were  to  be  seen  on 
the  other  side  of  the  hill;  the  broken  and  deserted 
headgear  of  the  pit,  and  the  discoloured  chimney  of 
the  old  power  house  were  still  visible  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  the  cottage. 

It  suited  the  owner  of  the  Secret  House,  however, 
to  have  this  little  cottage  erected,  though  it  was 
nearly  two  miles  from  the  Secret  House,  and  he 
had  spared  neither  expense  nor  troubje  in  preparing 
a  handsome  interior. 

Lady  Constance  Dex  had  been  the  recipient  of 
many  gifts  from  Mr.  Farrington  and  his  friends. 
There  had  been  a  period  when  Farrington  could 
not  do  enough  for  her,  and  had  showered  upon  her 
every  mark  of  his  esteem,  and  Moor  Cottage  had 
perhaps  been  the  most  magnificent  of  these  presents. 
Here  she  could  find  seclusion,  and  in  the  pretty  oak- 
panelled  rooms  reconstruct  those  happy  days 
which  Great  Bradley  had  at  one  time  offered  to  her. 

"  It  is  a  little  lonely,"  she  smiled  at  her  brother. 

She  had  a  good-natured  contempt  for  his  opinion. 
He  was  a  large,  lethargic  man,  who  had  common- 
place views  on  all  subjects. 

"  But  really  you  know,  Jerry,  I  am  quite  a  capable 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  209 

person,  and  Brown  will  be  near  by,  in  case  of  neces- 
sity." 

He  nodded,  and  addressed  himself  again  to  the 
Times,  the  perusal  of  which  she  had  interrupted. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  he  said  from  be- 
hind his  newspaper.  By  and  by  he  put  it  down. 

"  Who  is  this  Mr.  Smith  ?  "  he  asked,  suddenly. 

"  Mr.  Smith  ?  "  she  said,  with  interest.  "  Which 
Mr.  Smith  are  you  referring  to?  " 

"  I  think  he  is  a  detective  person,"  said  the 
Reverend  Jeremiah  Bangley ;  "  he  has  honoured  us 
with  a  great  number  of  visits  lately." 

"You  mean ?" 

"  I  mean  Great  Bradley,"  he  explained.  "  Do 
you  think  there  is  anything  wrong  at  the  Secret 
House?" 

"  What  could  there  be  wrong,"  she  asked,  "  that 
has  not  been  wrong  for  the  last  ten  or  twenty 
years  ?  " 

He  shrugged  his  massive  shoulders. 

"  I  have  never  quite  approved  of  the  Secret 
House,"  he  said,  unnecessarily. 

She  finished  her  hurried  breakfast  and  rose. 

"  You  have  never  approved  of  anything,  Jerry," 
she  said,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder  as  she 
passed. 

She   looked   through   the  window;  the  victoria 


210  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

she  had  ordered  was  waiting  at  the  door,  with  the 
imperturbable  Brown  sitting  on  the  box. 

"  I  shall  be  back  to  lunch,"  she  said. 

Looking  through  a  window  he  saw  her  mount  into 
the  carriage  carrying  a  portfolio.  In  that  letter 
case,  although  he  did  not  know  it,  were  the  letters 
and  diaries  which  Dr.  Gold  worthy  had  brought 
from  the  Congo.  In  the  seclusion  of  Moor  Cottage 
she  found  the  atmosphere  to  understand  the  words, 
written  now  in  fire  upon  her  very  soul,  and  to  plan 
her  future. 

There  was  no  servant  at  Moor  Cottage.  She  was 
in  the  habit  of  sending  one  of  her  own  domestic 
staff  after  her  visit  to  make  it  tidy  for  her  future 
reception. 

She  let  herself  in  through  the  little  door  placed 
under  the  green-covered  porch. 

"  You  can  unharness  the  horse ;  I  shall  be  here 
two  hours,"  she  said  to  the  waiting  Brown. 

The  man  touched  his  hat.  He  was  used  to  these 
excursions  and  was  possessed  of  the  patience  of  his 
class.  He  backed  the  victoria  on  to  the  moor  by 
the  side  of  the  fence  which  surrounded  the  house. 
There  was  a  little  stable  at  the  back,  but  it  was  never 
used.  He  unharnessed  the  horse,  fixed  his  nosebag, 
and  sat  down  to  read  his  favourite  newspaper;  a 
little  journal  which  dealt  familiarly  with  the  erratic 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  211 

conduct  of  the  upper  classes.  He  was  not  a  quick 
reader,  and  there  was  sufficient  in  the  gossipy  journal 
to  occupy  his  attention  for  three  or  four  hours.  At 
the  end  of  an  hour  he  thought  he  heard  his  lady's 
voice  calling  him,  and  jumping  up,  he  walked  to  the 
door  of  the  cottage. 

He  listened,  but  there  was  no  other  sound,  and 
he  came  back  to  his  previous  position,  and  con- 
tinued his  study  of  the  decadent  aristocracy.  Four 
hours  he  waited,  and  assailed  by  a  most  human 
hunger,  his  patience  was  pardonably  exhausted. 

He  rose  slowly,  harnessed  the  horse,  and  drove 
the  victoria  ostentatiously  before  the  window  of  the 
little  sitting-room  which  Lady  Constance  Dex  used 
as  a  study.  Another  half  an  hour  passed  without 
any  response,  and  he  got  down  from  his  box  and 
knocked  at  the  door. 

There  was  no  answer;  he  knocked  again;  still 
no  reply. 

In  alarm  he  went  to  the  window  and  peered  in. 
The  floor  was  strewn  with  papers  scattered  in  con- 
fusion. A  chair  had  been  overturned.  More  to  the 
point,  he  saw  an  overturned  inkpot,  which  was  elo- 
quent to  his  ordered  mind  of  an  unusual  happening. 

Increasingly  alarmed,  he  put  his  shoulder  to  the 
door,  but  it  did  not  yield.  He  triecl  the  window;  it 
was  locked. 


212  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  a  motor  came  swiftly 
over  the  hill  from  the  direction  of  the  rectory. 
With  a  jar  it  came  to  a  sudden  stop  before  the 
house,  and  T.  B.  Smith  leapt  out. 

Brown  had  seen  the  detective  before  on  his  visits 
to  the  rectory,  and  now  hailed  him  as  veritably 
god-sent. 

"  Where  is  Lady  Constance  ? "  asked  T.  B., 
quickly. 

The  man  pointed  to  the  house  with  trembling 
finger. 

"  She's  in  there  somewhere,"  he  said,  fretfully, 
**  but  I  can't  make  her  answer  .  .  .  and  the  room 
appears  to  be  very  disordered." 

He  led  the  way  to  the  window.  T.  B.  looked  in 
and  saw  that  which  confirmed  his  worst  fears. 

"  Stand  back,"  he  said. 

He  raised  his  ebony  stick  and  sent  it  smashing 
through  the  glass.  In  a  second  his  hand  was  inside 
unlocking  the  latch  of  the  window;  a  few  seconds 
later  he  was  in  the  room  itself.  He  passed  swiftly 
from  room  to  room,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  Lady 
Constance.  On  the  floor  of  the  study  was  a  piece 
of  lace  collar,  evidently  wrenched  from  her  gown. 

"  Hullo!  "  said  Ela,  who  had  followed  him.  He 
pointed  to  the  table.  On  a  sheet  of  paper  was  the 
print  of  a  bloody  palm. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  213 

"  Farrington,"  said  T.  B.,  briefly,  "  he  has  been 
here ;  but  how  did  he  get  out  ?  " 

He  questioned  the  coachman  closely,  but  the  man 
was  emphatic. 

"  No,  sir,"  he  said,  "  it  would  have  been  impos- 
sible for  anybody  to  have  passed  out  of  here  without 
my  seeing  them.  Not  only  could  I  see  the  cottage 
from  where  I  sat,  but  the  whole  of  the  hillside." 

"  Is  there  any  other  place  where  she  could  be  ?  " 

"  There  is  the  outhouse,"  said  Brown,  after  a 
moment's  thought ;  "  we  used  to  put  up  the  vic- 
toria there,  but  we  never  use  it  nowadays  in  fine 
weather." 

The  outhouse  consisted  of  a  large  coachhouse 
and  a  small  stable.  There  was  no  lock  to  the  doors, 
T.  B.  noticed,  and  he  pulled  them  open  wide.  There 
was  a  heap  of  straw  in  one  corner,  kept  evidently 
as  a  provision  against  the  need  of  the  visiting  coach- 
man. T.  B.  stepped  into  the  outhouse,  then  sud- 
denly with  a  cry  he  leant  down,  and  caught  a  figure 
by  the  collar  and  swung  him  to  his  feet. 

"  Will  you  kindly  explain  what  you  are  doing 
here  ?  "  he  asked,  and  then  gave  a  gasp  of  astonish- 
ment, for  the  sleepy-eyed  prisoner  in  his  hands  was 
Frank  Doughton. 

"  It  is  a  curious  story  you  tell  me,"  said  T.  B. 


214  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  admit  it  is  curious,"  said  Frank,  with  a  smile, 
"  and  I  am  so  sleepy  that  I  do  not  know  how  much 
I  have  told  you,  and  how  much  I  have  imagined." 

"  You  told  me,"  recapitulated  T.  B.,  "  that  you 
were  kidnapped  last  night  in  London,  that  you  were 
carried  through  London  and  into  the  country  in  an 
unknown  direction,  and  that  you  made  your  escape 
from  the  motor-car  by  springing  out  in  the  early 
hours  of  this  morning,  whilst  the  car  was  going  at  a 
slackened  speed." 

"  That  is  it,"  said  the  other.  "  I  have  not  the 
slightest  idea  where  I  am;  perhaps  you  can  tell 
me?" 

"  You  are  near  Great  Bradley,"  said  T.  B.,  with 
a  smile.  "  I  wonder  you  do  not  recognize  your 
home;  for  home  it  is,  as  I  understand." 

Frank  looked  round  with  astonished  eyes. 

"  What  were  they  bringing  me  here  for  ?  "  he 
demanded. 

"  That  remains  to  be  discovered,"  replied  T.  B. ; 
"  my  own  impression  is  that  you " 

"  Do  you  think  I  was  being  taken  to  the  Secret 
House?"  interrupted  the  young  man,  suddenly. 

T.  B.  shook  his  head. 

"  I  should  think  that  was  unlikely.  I  suspect 
our  friend  Poltavo  of  having  carried  out  this  little 
coup  entirely  on  his  own.  I  further  suspect  his  hav- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  215 

ing  brought  the  car  in  this  direction  with  no  other 
object  than  to  throw  suspicion  upon  our  worthy 
friends  across  the  hill — and  how  did  you  come  to  the 
outhouse?  " 

"  I  was  dead  beat,"  explained  Frank.  "  I  had 
a  sudden  spasm  of  strength  which  enabled  me  to 
out-distance  those  people  who  were  pursuing  me, 
but  after  I  had  shaken  them  off  I  felt  that  I  could 
drop.  I  came  upon  this  cottage,  which  seemed  the 
only  habitation  in  view,  and  after  endeavouring  to 
waken  the  occupants  I  did  the  next  best  thing,  I 
made  my  way  into  the  coachhouse  and  fell  asleep." 

T.  B.  had  no  misgivings  so  far  as  this  story  was 
concerned;  he  accepted  it  as  adding  only  another 
obstacle  to  the  difficulties  of  his  already  difficult 
task. 

''  You  heard  no  sound  whilst  you  lay  there  ?  " 

"  None  whatever,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  No  sound  of  a  struggle,  I  mean,"  said  T.  B., 
and  then  it  was  that  he  explained  to  Frank  Doughton 
the  extraordinary  disappearance  of  the  owner  of 
Moor  Cottage. 

"  She  must  be  in  the  house,"  said  Frank. 

They  went  back  and  resumed  their  search.  Up- 
stairs was  a  bedroom,  and  adjoining  a  bath-room. 
On  the  ground  floor  were  two  rooms :  the  study  he 
had  quitted  and  a  smaller  room  beautifully  decor- 


216  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

ated  and  containing  a  piano.  But  the  search  was 
fruitless;  Lady  Constance  Dex  had  disappeared  as 
though  the  earth  had  opened  and  swallowed  her  up. 
There  was  no  sign  of  a  trap  in  the  whole  of  the  little 
building,  and  T.  B.  was  baffled. 

"  It  is  a  scientific  axiom,"  he  said,  addressing 
Ela  with  a  thoughtful  glint  in  his  eye,  "  that  matter 
must  occupy  space,  therefore  Lady  Constance  Dex 
must  be  in  existence,  she  cannot  have  evaporated 
into  thin  air,  and  I  am  not  going  to  leave  this  place 
until  I  find  her." 

Ela  was  thinking  deeply,  and  frowning  at  the  un- 
tidiness of  the  table. 

"  Do  you  remember  that  locket  which  you  found 
on  one  of  the  dead  men  in  Brakely  Square?"  he 
asked  suddenly. 

T.  B.  nodded.  He  put  his  hand  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  for  he  had  carried  that  locket  ever  since  the 
night  of  its  discovery. 

"  Let  us  have  a  look  at  the  inscription  again," 
said  Ela. 

They  drew  up  chairs  to  the  table  and  examined 
the  little  circular  label  which  they  had  found  in  the 
battered  interior. 

"  Mor  :  Cot. 
God  sav  the  Keng." 

Ela  shook  his  head  helplessly. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  217 

"  I  am  perfectly  sure  there  is  a  solution  here,"  he 
said.  "  Do  you  see  those  words  on  the  top  ?  *  Mor : 
Cot : ' — that  stands  for  Moor  Cottage." 

"  By  Jove,  so  it  does,"  said  T.  B.,  picking  up  the 
locket ;  "  that  never  struck  me  before.  It  was  the 
secret  of  Moor  Cottage  which  this  man  discovered, 
and  with  which  he  was  trying  to  blackmail  our 
friend.  So  far  as  the  patriotic  postscript  is  con- 
cerned that  is  beyond  my  understanding." 

"  There  is  a  meaning  to  it,"  said  Ela,  "  and  it  is 
not  a  cryptogram  either.  You  see  how  he  has 
forgotten  to  put  the  '  e  '  in  '  save  '  ?  And  he  has 
spelt  '  king  '  '  keng.'  " 

They  waited  before  the  house  whilst  Brown  drove 
to  the  rectory,  and  then  on  to  the  town.  Jeremiah 
Bangley  arrived  in  a  state  of  calm  anticipation. 
That  his  sister  had  disappeared  did  not  seem  to 
strike  him  as  a  matter  for  surprise,  though  he 
permitted  himself  to  say  that  it  was  a  very  remark- 
able occurrence. 

"  I  have  always  warned  Constance  not  to  be  here 
alone,  and  I  should  never  have  forgiven  myself  if 
Brown  had  not  been  on  the  spot,"  he  said. 

"  Can  you  offer  any  explanation  ?  " 

The  rector  shook  his  head.  He  was  totally  ignor- 
ant of  the  arrangements  of  the  house,  had  never,  so 
he  said,  put  foot  in  it  in  his  life.  This  was  per- 


218  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

fectly  true,  for  he  was  an  incurious  man  who  did 
not  greatly  bother  himself  about  the  affairs  of  other 
people.  The  local  police  arrived  in  half  an  hour, 
headed  by  the  chief  inspector,  who  happened  to  be 
in  the  station  when  the  report  was  brought  in. 

"  I  suppose  I  had  better  take  this  young  man  to 
the  station?"  he  said,  indicating  Frank. 

"Why?"  asked  T.  B.  calmly;  "what  do  you 
gain  by  arresting  him?  As  a  matter  of  fact  there 
is  no  evidence  whatever  which  would  implicate 
Mr.  Doughton,  and  I  am  quite  prepared  to  give  you 
my  own  guarantee  to  produce  him  whenever  you 
may  require  him. 

c<  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  get  back  to 
town,"  he  said  kindly  to  that  young  man;  "  you  need 
a  little  sleep.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  prelude  to  your 
marriage.  By  the  way,  that  is  to-morrow,  is  it 
not  ?  "  he  asked,  suddenly. 

Frank  nodded. 

"  I  wonder  if  that  has  anything  to  do  with  your 
kidnapping,"  said  T.  B.  thoughtfully.  "  Is  there 
any  person  who  is  anxious  that  this  marriage  should 
not  come  about  ?  " 

Frank  hesitated. 

"  I  hardly  like  to  accuse  a  man,"  he  said,  "  but 
Poltavo " 

"  Poltavo  ?  "  repeated  T.  B.  quickly. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  219 

"  Yes,"  said  Frank ;  "  he  has  some  views  on  the 
question  of  Miss  Gray." 

He  spoke  reluctantly,  for  he  was  loath  to  intro- 
duce Doris'  name  into  the  argument. 

"  Poltavo  would  have  a  good  reason,"  mused 
T.  B.  Smith.  "  Tell  me  what  happened  in  the 
car." 

Briefly  Frank  related  the  circumstances  which  had 
led  up  to  his  capture. 

"  When  I  found  myself  in  their  hands,"  he  said, 
"  I  decided  to  play  'possum  for  a  while.  The  car 
was  moving  at  incredible  speed,  remembering  your 
stringent  traffic  regulations," — he  smiled, — "  and  I 
knew  that  any  attempt  to  escape  on  my  part  would 
result  in  serious  injury  to  myself.  They  made  no 
bones  about  their  intentions.  Before  we  were  clear 
of  London  they  had  pulled  the  blinds,  and  one  of 
them  had  switched  on  the  electric  lamp.  They  were 
both  masked,  and  were,  I  think,  foreigners.  One 
sat  opposite  to  me,  all  through  the  night,  a  revolver 
on  his  knees,  and  he  did  not  make  any  disguise  of 
his  intention  of  employing  his  weapon  if  I  gave 
the  slightest  trouble. 

"  I  could  not  tell,  because  of  the  lowered  blinds, 
which  direction  we  were  taking,  but  presently  we 
struck  the  country  and  they  let  down  one  of  the 
windows  without  raising  the  blind  and  I  could  smell 


220  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

the  sweet  scent  of  the  fields,  and  knew  we  were  miles 
away  from  London. 

"  I  think  I  must  have  dozed  a  little,  for  very 
suddenly,  it  seemed,  daylight  came,  and  I  had  the 
good  sense  in  waking  to  make  as  little  stir  as  pos- 
sible. I  found  the  man  sitting  opposite  was  also  in  a 
mild  doze,  and  the  other  at  my  side  was  nodding. 

"  I  took  a  very  careful  survey  of  the  situation. 
The  car  was  moving  very  slowly,  and  evidently  the 
driver  had  orders  to  move  at  no  particular  pace 
through  the  night,  in  order  to  economize  the  petrol. 
There  was  an  inside  handle  to  each  of  the  doors,  and 
I  had  to  make  up  my  mind  by  which  I  was  to  make 
my  escape.  I  decided  upon  the  near  side.  Gather- 
ing up  my  energies  for  one  supreme  effort,  I  sud- 
denly leapt  up,  flung  open  the  door,  and  jumped 
out.  I  had  enough  experience  of  the  London 
traffic  to  clear  the  car  without  stumbling. 

"  I  found  myself  upon  a  heath,  innocent  of  any 
cover,  save  for  a  belt  of  trees  about  half  a  mile 
ahead  of  me  as  I  ran.  Fortunately  the  down,  which 
was  apparently  flat,  was,  in  fact,  of  a  rolling  char- 
acter, and  in  two  minutes  I  must  have  been  out  of 
sight  of  the  car — long  before  they  had  brought  the 
driver,  himself  half  asleep  probably,  to  an  under- 
standing that  I  had  made  my  escape.  They  caught 
sight  of  me  as  I  came  up  from  the  hollow,  and  one 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  221 

of  them  must  have  fired  at  me,  for  I  heard  the  whistle 
of  a  bullet  pass  my  head.  That  is  all  the  story  I 
have  to  tell.  It  was  rather  a  tame  conclusion  to 
what  promised  to  be  a  most  sensational  adventure." 

At  the  invitation  of  the  Reverend  Jeremiah  he 
drove  back  to  the  rectory,  and  left  T.  B.  to  con- 
tinue his  search  for  the  missing  Lady  Constance. 
No  better  result  attended  the  second  scrutiny  of 
the  rooms  than  had  resulted  from  the  first. 

"  The  only  suggestion  I  can  make  now,"  said  T.  B., 
helplessly,  "  is  that  whilst  our  friend  the  coachman 
was  reading,  his  lady  slipped  out  without  attracting 
his  attention  and  strolled  away;  she  will  in  all 
probability  be  awaiting  us  at  the  rectory." 

Yet  in  his  heart  he  knew  that  this  view  was 
absolutely  wrong.  The  locked  doors,  the  evidence 
of  a  struggle  in  the  room,  the  bloody  hand  print,  all 
pointed  conclusively  to  foul  play. 

"  At  any  rate  Lady  Constance  Dex  is  somewhere 
within  the  radius  of  four  miles,"  he  said,  grimly, 
"  and  I  will  find  her  if  I  have  to  pull  down  the  Secret 
House  stone  by  stone." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  morning  of  Doris  Gray's  wedding  dawned 
fair  and  bright,  and  she  sat  by  the  window 
which  overlooked  the  gardens  in  Brakely  Square, 
her  hands  clasped  across  her  knees,  her  mind  in  a 
very  tangle  of  confusion.  It  was  happy  for  her 
(she  argued)  that  there  were  so  many  considerations 
attached  to  this  wedding  that  she  had  not  an  oppor- 
tunity of  thinking  out,  logically  and  to  its  proper 
end,  the  consequence  of  this  act  of  hers. 

She  had  had  a  wire  from  Frank  on  the  night 
previous,  and  to  her  surprise  it  had  been  dated  from 
Great  Bradley.  For  some  reason  which  she  could 
not  define  she  was  annoyed  that  he  could  leave 
London,  and  be  so  absorbed  in  his  work  on  the  eve 
of  his  wedding.  She  gathered  that  his  presence  in 
that  town  had  to  do  with  his  investigations  in  the 
Tollington  case.  She  thought  that  at  least  he  might 
have  spent  one  day  near  her  in  case  she  wished  to 

222 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  223 

consult  him.  He  took  much  for  granted,  she  thought 
petulantly.  Poltavo,  on  the  contrary,  had  been 
most  assiduous  in  his  attention.  He  had  had  tea 
with  her  the  previous  afternoon,  and  with  singular 
delicacy  had  avoided  any  reference  to  the  forth- 
coming marriage  or  to  his  own  views  on  the  subject. 
But  all  that  he  did  not  speak,  he  looked.  He  con- 
veyed the  misery  in  which  he  stood  with  subtle 
suggestion.  She  felt  sorry  for  him,  had  no  doubt 
of  the  genuineness  of  his  affection,  or  his  disinter- 
estedness. A  profitable  day  for  Poltavo  in  ordinary 
circumstances. 

A  maid  brought  her  from  her  reverie  to  the  practi- 
cal realities  of  life. 

"  Mr.  Debenham  has  called,  miss, '  said  the  girl. 
"  I  have  shown  him  into  the  drawing-room." 

"  Mr.  Debenham  ? "  repeated  Doris,  with  a 
puzzled  frown.  "  Oh,  yes,  the  lawyer ;  I  will  come 
down  to  him." 

She  found  the  staid  solicitor  walking  up  and  down 
the  drawing-room  abstractedly. 

"  I  suppose  you  know  that  I  shall  be  a  necessary 
guest  at  your  wedding,"  he  said,  as  he  shook  hands. 
"  I  have  to  deliver  to  you  the  keys  of  your  uncle's 
safe  at  the  London  Safe  Deposit.  I  have  a  memo- 
randum here  of  the  exact  amount  of  money  which 
should  be  in  that  safe." 


224  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

He  laid  the  paper  on  the  table. 

"  You  can  look  at  the  items  at  your  leisure,  but 
roughly  it  amounts  to  eight  hundred  thousand 
pounds,  which  was  left  you  by  your  late  father, 
who,  I  understand,  died  when  you  were  a  child." 

She  nodded. 

"  That  sum  is  in  gilt-edged  securities,  and  you 
will  probably  find  that  a  number  of  dividends  are 
due  to  you.  The  late  Mr.  Farrington,  when  he  made 
his  arrangements  for  your  future,  chose  this  some- 
what unusual  and  bizarre  method  of  protecting  your 
money,  much  against  my  will.  I  might  tell  you," 
he  went  on,  "  that  he  consulted  me  about  six  years 
ago  on  the  subject,  and  I  strongly  advised  him 
against  it.  As  it  happened,  I  was  wrong,  for  imme- 
diately afterwards,  as  his  books  show,  he  must  have 
suffered  enormous  losses,  and  although  I  make  no 
suggestion  against  his  character," — he  raised  his 
hand  deprecatingly, — "  yet  I  do  say  that  the  situa- 
tion which  was  created  by  the  slump  in  Canadian 
Pacifies  of  which  he  was  a  large  holder,  might  very 
easily  have  tempted  a  man  not  so  strong-willed  as 
Mr.  Farrington.  At  the  present  moment,"  he  went 
on,  "  I  have  no  more  to  do  than  discharge  my  duty, 
and  I  have  called  beforehand  to  see  you  and  to  ask 
whether  your  uncle  spoke  of  the  great  Tollington 
fortune  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  trustees,  though 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  225 

as  I  believe — as  I  know,  in  fact — he  never  handled 
the  money." 

She  looked  surprised. 

"  It  is  curious  that  you  should  ask  that,"  she  said. 
"  Mr.  Doughton  is  engaged  in  searching  for  the  heir 
to  that  fortune." 

Debenham  nodded. 

"  So  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  I  ask  because  I 
received  a  communication  from  the  other  trustees  in 
America,  and  I  am  afraid  your  future  husband's 
search  will  be  unavailing  unless  he  can  produce  the 
heir  within  the  next  forty-eight  hours." 

"  Why  is  that  ?  "     she  asked  in  surprise. 

"  The  terms  of  the  will  are  peculiar,"  said  Mr. 
Debenham,  walking  up  and  down  as  he  spoke. 
"  The  Tollington  fortune,  as  you  may  know " 

"  I  know  nothing  about  it,"  she  interrupted. 

"Then  I  will  tell  you."  He  smiled.  "The 
fortune  descends  to  the  heir  and  to  his  wife  in  equal 
proportions." 

"  Suppose  he  is  not  blessed  with  a  wife?  "  She 
smiled  with  something  like  her  old  gaiety. 

"  In  that  case  the  money  automatically  goes  to 
the  woman  the  heir  eventually  marries.  But  the 
terms  of  the  will  are  that  the  heir  shall  be  discovered 
within  twenty  years  of  the  date  of  Tollington's 
death.  The  time  of  grace  expires  to-morrow." 


226  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Poor  Frank,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head,  "  and 
he  is  working  so  hard  with  his  clues !  I  suppose  if 
he  does  not  produce  that  mysterious  individual  by 
to-morrow  there  will  be  no  reward  for  him  ?  " 

The  lawyer  shook  his  head. 

"  I  should  hardly  think  it  likely,"  he  said,  "  be- 
cause the  reward  is  for  the  man  who  complies  with 
the  conditions  of  the  will  within  a  stipulated  time. 
It  was  because  I  knew  Mr.  Doughton  had  some 
interest  in  it,  and  because  also" — he  hesitated — 
"  I  thought  that  your  uncle  might  have  taken  you 
into  his  confidence." 

"  That  he  might  have  told  me  who  this  missing 
person  was,  and  that  he  himself  knew;  and  for  some 
reason  suppressed  the  fact  ? "  she  asked,  quickly. 
"  Is  that  what  you  suggest,  Mr.  Debenham  ?  " 

"  Please  do  not  be  angry  with  me,"  said  the 
lawyer,  quickly;  "I  do  not  wish  to  say  anything 
against  Mr.  Farrington;  but  I  know  he  was  a  very 
shrewd  and  calculating  man,  and  I  thought  possibly 
that  he  might  have  taken  you  that  much  into  his 
confidence,  and  that  you  might  be  able  to  help 
your  future  husband  a  part  of  the  way  to  a  very 
large  sum  of  money." 

She  shook  her  head  again. 

"  I  have  absolutely  no  knowledge  of  the  subject. 
My  uncle  never  took  me  into  his  confidence,"  she 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  227 

said ;  "  he  was  very  uncommunicative  where  busi- 
ness was  concerned — although  I  am  sure  he  was 
fond  of  me."  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  not  at 
the  recollection  of  his  kindness,  but  at  the  humilia- 
tion she  experienced  at  playing  a  part  in  which  she 
had  no  heart.  It  made  her  feel  inexpressibly  mean 
and  small. 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Mr.  Debenham.  "  I  shall  see 
you  at  the  registrar's  office." 

She  nodded. 

"  May  I  express  the  hope,"  he  said,  in  his  heavy 
manner,  "  that  your  life  will  be  a  very  happy  one, 
and  that  your  marriage  will  prove  all  you  hope  it 
will  be?" 

"  I  hardly  know  what  I  hope  it  will  be,"  she  said 
wearily,  as  she  accompanied  him  to  the  door. 

That  good  man  shook  his  head  sadly  as  he  made 
his  way  back  to  his  office. 

Was  there  ever  so  unromantic  and  prosaic  affair 
as  this  marriage,  thought  Doris,  as  she  stepped  into 
the  taxicab  which  was  to  convey  her  to  the  regis- 
trar's office?  She  had  had  her  dreams,  as  other 
girls  had  had,  of  that  wonderful  day  when  with 
pealing  of  the  organ  she  would  walk  up  the  aisle 
perhaps  upon  the  arm  of  Gregory  Farrington,  to  a 
marriage  which  would  bring  nothing  but  delight 
and  happiness.  And  here  was  the  end  of  her  dreams, 


228  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

a  great  heiress  and  a  beautiful  girl  rocking  across 
London  in  a  hired  cab  to  a  furtive  marriage. 

Frank  was  waiting  for  her  on  the  pavement  out- 
side the  grimy  little  office.  Mr.  Debenham  was 
there,  and  a  clerk  he  had  brought  with  him  as  wit- 
ness. The  ceremony  was  brief  and  uninteresting; 
she  became  Mrs.  Doughton  before  she  quite  realized 
what  was  happening. 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do  now,"  said  the 
lawyer  as  they  stood  outside  again  on  the  sunlit 
pavement. 

He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  We  had  best  go  straight  away  to  the  London 
Safe  Deposit,  and,  if  you  will  give  me  the  authority, 
I  will  take  formal  possession  of  your  fortune  and 
place  it  in  the  hands  of  my  bankers.  I  think  these 
things  had  better  be  done  regularly." 

The  girl  acquiesced. 

Frank  was  singularly  silent  during  the  drive; 
save  to  make  some  comment  upon  the  amount  of 
traffic  i«  the  streets,  he  did  not  speak  to  her  and  she 
was  grateful  for  his  forbearance.  Her  mind  was 
in  a  turmoil;  she  was  married — that  was  all  she 
knew — married  to  somebody  she  liked  but  did  not 
love.  Married  to  a  man  who  had  been  chosen  for 
her  partly  against  her  will.  She  glanced  at  him  out 
of  the  corners  of  her  eyes ;  if  she  was  joyless,  no  less 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  229 

was  he.  It  was  an  inauspicious  beginning  to  a 
married  life  which  would  end  who  knew  how? 
Before  the  depressing  granite  fagade  of  the  London 
Safe  Deposit  the  party  descended,  Mr.  Debenham 
paid  the  cabman,  and  they  went  down  the  stone 
steps  into  the  vaults  of  the  repository. 

There  was  a  brief  check  whilst  Mr.  Debenham 
explained  his  authority  for  the  visit,  and  it  was  when 
the  officials  were  making  reference  to  their  books 
that  the  party  was  augmented  by  the  arrival  of 
Poltavo. 

He  bowed  over  the  girl's  hand,  holding  it  a  little 
longer  than  Frank  could  have  liked,  murmured 
colourless  congratulations  and  nodded  to  Debenham. 

"  Count  Poltavo  is  here,  I  may  say,"  explained 
the  lawyer,  "  by  your  late  uncle's  wishes.  They 
were  contained  in  a  letter  he  wrote  to  me  a  few  days 
before  he  disappeared." 

Frank  nodded  grudgingly;  still  he  was  generous 
enough  to  realize  something  of  this  man's  feelings 
if  he  loved  Doris,  and  he  made  an  especial  effort  to 
be  gracious  to  the  new-comer. 

A  uniformed  attendant  led  them  through  innum- 
erable corridors  till  they  came  to  a  private  vault 
guarded  by  stout  bars.  The  attendant  opened 
these  and  they  walked  into  a  little  stone  chamber, 
illuminated  by  overhead  lights. 


230  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

The  only  article  of  furniture  in  the  room  was  a 
small  safe  which  stood  in  one  corner.  A  very  small 
safe  indeed,  thought  Frank,  to  contain  so  large  a 
fortune.  The  lawyer  turned  the  key  in  the  lock 
methodically,  and  the  steel  door  swung  back.  The 
back  of  Mr.  Debenham  obscured  their  view  of  the 
safe's  interior.  Then  he  turned  with  an  expression 
of  wonder. 

"  There  is  nothing  here,"  he  said. 

"  Nothing !  "  gasped  Doris. 

"  Save  this,"  said  the  lawyer. 

He  took  a  small  envelope  and  handed  it  to  the 
girl.  She  opened  it  mechanically  and  read: 

"  I  have,  unfortunately,  found  it  necessary  to 
utilize  your  fortune  for  the  furtherance  of  my  plans. 
You  must  try  and  forgive  me  for  this;  but  I  have 
given  you  a  greater  one  than  you  have  lost,  a  hus- 
band." 

She  looked  up. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  she  whispered. 

Frank  took  the  letter  from  her  hand  and  con- 
cluded the  reading. 

"  A  husband  in  Frank  Doughton  .  .  ." 

The  words  swam  before  his  eyes. 

"  And  Frank  Doughton  is  the  heir  to  the  Tolling- 
ton  millions,  as  his  father  was  before  him.  All 
the  necessary  proofs  to  establish  his  identity  will 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  231 

be  discovered  in  the  sealed  envelope  which  the 
lawyer  holds,  and  which  is  inscribed  '  C' ' 

The  letter  was  signed  "  Gregory  Farrington." 

The  lawyer  was  the  first  to  recover  his  self- 
possession;  his  practical  mind  went  straight  to  the 
business  at  hand. 

"  There  is  such  an  envelope  in  my  office,"  he  said, 
"  given  to  me  by  Mr.  Farrington  with  strict  instruc- 
tions that  it  was  not  to  be  handed  to  his  executors 
or  to  any  person  until  definite  instructions  arrived — 
instructions  which  would  be  accompanied  by  un- 
mistakable proof  as  to  the  necessity  for  its  being 
handed  over.  I  congratulate  you,  Mr.  Dough- 
ton." 

He  turned  and  shook  hands  with  the  bewildered 
Frank,  who  had  been  listening  like  a  man  in  a  dream ; 
the  heir  to  the  Tollington  millions;  he,  the  son  of 
George  Doughton,  and  all  the  time  he  had  been 
looking  for — what?  For  his  own  grandmother! 

It  came  on  him  all  of  a  rush.  He  knew  now 
that  all  his  efforts,  all  his  search  might  have  been 
saved,  if  he  had  only  realized  the  Christian  name  of 
his  father's  mother. 

He  had  only  the  dimmest  recollection  of  the  placid- 
faced  lady  who  had  died  whilst  he  was  at  school; 
he  had  never  associated  in  his  mind  this  serene  old 
lady,  who  had  passed  away  only  a  few  hours  before 


232  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

her  beloved  husband,  with  the  Annie  for  whom  he 
had  searched.  It  made  him  gasp — then  he  came 
to  earth  quickly  as  he  realized  that  his  success  had 
come  with  the  knowledge  of  his  wife's  financial 
ruin.  He  looked  at  her  as  she  stood  there — it  was 
too  vast  a  shock  for  her  to  realize  at  once. 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  shoulder,  and  Poltavo, 
twirling  his  little  moustache,  looked  at  the  two 
through  his  lowered  lids  with  an  ugly  smile  playing 
at  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"  It  is  all  right,  dear,"  said  Frank  soothingly ; 
"  your  money  is  secure — it  was  only  a  temporary 
use  he  made  of  it." 

"  It  is  not  that,"  she  said,  with  a  catch  in  her 
throat ;  "  it  is  the  feeling  that  my  uncle  trapped  you 
into  this  marriage.  I  did  not  mind  his  dissipating 
my  own  fortune;  the  money  is  nothing  to  me.  But 
he  has  caught  you  by  a  trick,  and  he  has  used  me 
as  a  bait."  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands. 

In  a  few  moments  she  had  composed  herself; 
she  spoke  no  other  word,  but  suffered  herself  to  be 
led  out  of  the  building  into  the  waiting  cab.  Pol- 
tavo watched  them  drive  off  with  that  fierce  little 
smile  of  his,  and  turned  to  the  lawyer. 

"  A  clever  man,  Mr.  Farrington,"  he  said,  in  a 
bitter  tone  of  reluctant  admiration. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  233 

The  lawyer  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  His  Majesty's  prisons  are  filled  with  men  who 
specialize  in  that  kind  of  cleverness,"  he  said,  drily, 
and  left  Poltavo  without  another  word. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

TB.  SMITH  was  playing  a  round  of  golf  at 
.  Walton  Heath,  when  the  news  was  tele- 
phoned through  to  him. 

He  left  immediately  for  town,  and  picked  up  Ela 
at  luncheon  at  the  Fritz  Hotel,  where  the  detective 
had  his  headquarters. 

"  The  whole  thing  is  perfectly  clear,  now,"  he  said. 
"  The  inexplicable  disappearance  of  Mr.  Farrington 
is  explained  in  poster  type,  '  that  he  who  runs  may 
read.' " 

"  I  am  a  little  hazy  about  the  solution  myself," 
said  Ela  dubiously. 

"  Then  I  will  put  it  in  plain  language  for  you," 
said  T.  B.  as  he  speared  a  sardine  from  the  hors 
d'cewure  dish.  "  Farrington  knew  all  along  that 
the  heir  to  the  Tollington  millions  was  George 
Doughton.  He  knew  it  years  and  years  ago,  and 
it  was  for  that  reason  he  settled  at  Great  Bradley, 
where  the  Doughtons  had  their  home.  Evidently 

234 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  235 

the  two  older  Doughtons  were  dead  at  this  time, 
and  only  George  Doughton,  the  romantic  and  alto- 
gether unpractical  explorer,  represented  the  family. 

"  George  was  in  love  with  the  lady  who  is  now 
known  as  Lady  Constance  Dex,  and  knowing  this, 
Farrington  evidently  took  every  step  that  was 
possible  to  ingratiate  himself  into  her  good  graces. 
He  knew  that  the  fortune  would  descend  equally  to 
Doughton  and  to  his  wife.  Doughton  was  a  wid- 
ower and  had  a  son,  a  youngster  at  the  time,  and  it  is 
very  possible  that,  the  boy  being  at  school,  and  being 
very  rarely  in  Great  Bradley,  Farrington  had  no 
idea  of  his  existence. 

"  The  knowledge  that  this  boy  was  alive  must 
have  changed  all  his  plans ;  at  any  rate,  the  engage- 
ment was  allowed  to  drift  on,  whilst  he  matured 
some  scheme  whereby  he  could  obtain  a  large 
portion  of  the  Tollington  millions  for  his  own  use. 
Again  I  think  his  plans  must  have  been  changed. 

"  It  was  whilst  he  was  at  Great  Bradley  that  he 
was  entrusted  with  the  guardianship  of  Doris  Gray, 
and  as  his  affection  for  the  young  girl  grew — an 
affection  which  I  think  was  one  of  the  few  whole- 
some things  in  his  li  fe — he  must  have  seen  the  extra- 
ordinary chance  which  fate  had  placed  in  his  way. 

"  With  diabolical  ingenuity  and  with  a  remorse- 
lessness  which  is  reminiscent  of  the  Borgias  he 


236  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

planned  first  George  Doughton's  death,  and  then 
the  bringing  together  of  Doughton's  son  and  his 
own  ward.  There  is  every  proof  of  this  to  be 
found  in  his  subsequent  actions.  He  was  prepared 
to  introduce  the  young  people  to  one  another,  and 
by  affording  them  opportunities  for  meeting,  and 
such  encouragement  as  he  could  give,  to  bring 
about  the  result  he  so  desired. 

"  But  things  did  not  move  fast  enough  for  him, 
and  then  he  must  have  learnt,  as  the  other  trustees 
seem  to  have  learnt  recently,  that  there  was  an  un- 
discovered time  limit.  He  threw  out  hints  to  his 
niece,  hints  which  were  received  rather  coldly. 
He  had  taken  the  bold  step  of  employing  Frank 
Doughton  to  discover — himself !  That  was  a  move 
which  had  a  twofold  purpose.  It  kept  the  young 
man  in  contact  with  him.  It  also  satisfied  the  other 
trustees,  who  had  entrusted  to  Farrington  the  task 
of  employing  the  necessary  measures  to  discover 
the  missing  heir. 

"  But  neither  hint  nor  suggestion  served  him. 
The  girl's  fortune  was  due  for  delivery  to  her  care, 
and  his  guardianship  expired  almost  at  the  same 
time  as  the  time  limit  for  discovery  of  the  Tollington 
millionaire  came  to  an  end.  He  had  to  take  a 
desperate  step ;  there  were  other  reasons,  of  course, 
contributing  to  his  move. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  237 

"  The  knowledge  that  he  was  suspected  by  me,  the 
certainty  that  Lady  Constance  Dex  would  betray 
him,  once  she  discovered  that  he  had  sent  her  lover 
to  his  death,  all  these  were  contributing  factors,  but 
the  main  reason  for  his  disappearance  was  the  will 
that  was  read  after  his  bogus  death. 

"  In  that  will  he  conveyed  unchallengeable  in- 
structions for  the  girl  to  marry  Frank  Doughton 
without  delay.  I  suspect  that  the  girl  now  knows 
he  is  alive.  Probably,  panic-stricken  by  her  tardi- 
ness, he  has  disclosed  his  hand  so  far  as  the  alleged 
death  is  concerned." 

T.  B.  looked  out  of  the  window  on  to  the  stream 
of  life  which  was  flowing  east  and  west  along  Picca- 
dilly; his  face  was  set  in  a  little  frown  of  doubt 
and  anxiety. 

"  I  can  take  Farrington  to-morrow  if  I  want  to," 
he  said  after  a  moment,  "  but  I  wish  to  gather  up 
every  string  of  organization  in  my  hands." 

"What  of  Lady  Constance  Dex?"  asked  Ela. 
"  Whilst  we  are  waiting,  she  is  in  some  little  danger." 

T.  B.  shook  his  head. 

"  If  she  is  not  dead  now,"  he  said  simply,  "  she 
will  be  spared.  If  Farrington  wished  to  kill  her — 
for  Farrington  it  was  who  spirited  her  away — he 
could  have  done  so  in  the  house ;  no  one  would  have 
been  any  the  wiser  as  to  the  murderer.  Lady 


238  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Constance  must  wait;  we  must  trust  to  luck  before 
I  inspect  that  underground  chamber  of  which  1 
imagine  she  is  at  present  an  unwilling  inmate.  I 
want  to  crush  this  blackmailing  force,"  he  said, 
thumping  the  table  with  energy;  "  I  want  to  sweep 
out  of  England  the  whole  organization  which  is 
working  right  under  the  nose  of  the  police  and  in 
defiance  of  all  laws;  and  until  I  have  done  that,  I 
shall  not  sleep  soundly  in  my  bed." 

"And  Poltavo?" 

"  Poltavo,"  smiled  T.  B.,  "  can  wait  for  just  a 
little  while." 

He  paid  the  bill  and  the  two  men  passed  out  of 
the  hotel  and  crossed  Piccadilly.  A  man  who  had 
been  lounging  along  apparently  studying  the  shop 
windows  saw  them  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  and 
followed  them  carelessly.  Another  man,  no  less 
ostentatiously  reading  a  newspaper,  as  he  walked 
along  the  pavement  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
thoroughfare,  followed  close  behind. 

T.  B.  and  his  companion  turned  into  Burlington 
Arcade  and  reached  Cork  Street.  Save  for  one  or 
two  pedestrians  the  street  was  utterly  deserted, 
and  the  first  of  the  shadowers  quickened  his  pace. 
He  put  his  hand  in  his  tail  pocket  and  took  out 
something  which  glinted  in  the  April  sunlight,  but 
before  he  could  raise  his  hand  the  fourth  man,  now 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  239 

on  his  heels,  dropped  his  newspaper,  and  flinging 
one  arm  around  the  shadower's  neck,  and  placing 
his  knee  in  the  small  of  the  other's  back,  wrenched 
the  pistol  away  with  his  disengaged  hand. 

T.  B.  turned  at  the  sound  of  the  struggle  and 
came  back  to  assist  the  shadowing  detective.  The 
prisoner  was  a  little  man,  sharp-featured,  and  ob- 
viously a  member  of  one  of  the  great  Latin  branches 
of  the  human  race.  A  tiny  black  moustache,  fierce 
scowling  eyebrows,  and  liquid  brown  eyes  now 
blazing  with  hate,  spoke  of  a  Southern  origin. 

Deftly  the  three  police  officers  searched  and 
disarmed  him;  a  pair  of  adjustable  handcuffs 
snapped  upon  the  man's  thin  wrists,  and  before  the 
inevitable  crowd  could  gather  the  prisoner  and  his 
custodians  were  being  whirled  to  Vine  Street  in  a 
cab. 

They  placed  the  man  in  the  steel  dock  and  asked 
him  the  usual  questions,  but  he  maintained  a  dogged 
silence.  That  his  object  had  been  assassination  no 
one  could  doubt,  for  in  addition  to  the  automatic 
pistol,  which  he  had  obviously  intended  using  at 
short  range,  trusting  to  luck  to  make  his  escape,  they 
found  a  long  stiletto  in  his  breast  pocket. 

More  to  the  point,  and  of  greater  interest  to 
T.  B.,  there  was  a  three-line  scrawl  on  a  piece  of 
paper  in  Italian,  which,  translated,  showed  that 


240  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

minute  instructions  had  been  given  to  the  would-be 
murderer  as  to  T.  B.'s  whereabouts. 

"  Put  him  in  a  cell,"  said  T.  B.  "  I  think  we  are 
going  to  find  things  out.  If  this  is  not  one  of 
Poltavo's  hired  thugs,  I  am  greatly  mistaken," 

Whatever  he  was,  the  man  offered  no  information 
which  might  assist  the  detective  in  his  search  for 
the  truth,  but  maintained  an  unbroken  silence,  and 
T.  B.  gave  up  the  task  of  questioning  him  in  sheer 
despair. 

The  next  morning  at  daybreak  the  prisoner  was 
aroused  and  told  to  dress.  He  was  taken  out  to 
where  a  motor  car  was  awaiting  him,  and  a  few 
moments  later  he  was  speeding  on  the  way  to  Dover. 
Two  detective  officers  placed  him  on  a  steamer  and 
accompanied  him  to  Calais.  At  Calais  they  took  a 
courteous  leave  of  him,  handing  him  a  hundred 
francs  and  the  information  in  his  own  tongue  that 
he  had  been  deported  on  an  order  from  the 
Home  Secretary,  obtained  at  midnight  the  previous 
night. 

The  prisoner  took  his  departure  with  some  eager- 
ness and  spent  the  greater  portion  of  his  hundred 
francs  in  addressing  a  telegram  to  Poltavo. 

T.  B.  Smith,  who  knew  that  telegram  would  come, 
was  sitting  in  the  Continental  instrument  room  of 
the  General  Post  Office  when  it  arrived.  He  was 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  241 

handed  a  copy  of  the  telegram  and  read  it.  Then 
he  smiled. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  said,  as  he  passed  it  back  to 
the  Superintendent  of  the  department,  "  this  may 
now  be  transmitted  for  delivery.  I  know  all  I  want 
to  know." 

Poltavo  received  the  message  an  hour  later,  and 
having  read  it,  cursed  his  subordinate's  indiscretion, 
for  the  message  was  in  Italian,  plain  for  everybody 
to  read  who  understood  that  language,  and  its  pur- 
port easy  to  understand  for  anybody  who  had  a 
knowledge  of  the  facts. 

He  waited  all  that  day  for  a  visit  from  the  police, 
and  when  T.  B.  arrived  in  the  evening  Poltavo  was 
ready  with  an  excuse  and  an  explanation.  But 
neither  excuse  nor  explanation  was  asked  for. 
T.  B.'s  questions  had  to  do  with  something  quite 
different,  namely  the  new  Mrs.  Doughton  and  her 
vanished  fortune. 

"  I  was  in  the  confidence  of  Mr.  Farrington,"  said 
Poltavo,  relieved  to  find  the  visit  had  nothing  to  do 
with  that  which  he  most  dreaded,  "  but  I  was  amazed 
to  discover  that  the  safe  was  empty.  It  was  a 
tremendous  tragedy  for  the  poor  young  lady. 
She  is  in  Paris  now  with  her  husband,"  he 
added. 

T.  B.  nodded. 


242  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Perhaps  you  will  give  me  their  address  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  With  pleasure,"  said  Count  Poltavo,  reaching 
for  his  address  book. 

"  I  may  be  going  to  Paris  myself  to-morrow," 
T.  B.  went  on,  "  and  I  will  look  these  young  people 
up.  I  suppose  it  is  not  the  correct  thing  for  any 
one  to  call  upon  honeymoon  couples,  but  a  police 
officer  has  privileges." 

There  was  an  exchange  of  smiles.  Poltavo  was 
almost  exhilarated  that  T.  B.'s  visit  had  nothing  to 
do  with  him  personally.  A  respect,  which  amounted 
almost  to  fear,  characterized  his  attitude  toward 
the  great  Scotland  Yard  detective.  He  credited 
T.  B.  with  qualities  which  perhaps  that  admirable 
man  did  not  possess,  but,  as  a  set-off  against  this, 
he  failed  to  credit  him  with  a  wiliness  which  was 
peculiarly  T.  B.'s  chief  asset.  For  who  could 
imagine  that  the  detective's  chief  object  in  calling 
upon  Poltavo  that  evening  was  to  allay  his  suspicions 
and  soothe  down  his  fears.  Yet  T.  B.  came  for  no 
other  reason  and  with  no  other  purpose.  It  was 
absolutely  necessary  that  Poltavo  should  be  taken 
off  his  guard,  for  T.  B.  was  planning  the  coup  which 
was  to  end  for  all  time  the  terror  under  which 
hundreds  of  innocent  people  in  England  were  lying. 

After  an  exchange  of  commonplace  civilities  the 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  243 

two  men  parted, — T.  B.,  as  he  said,  with  his  hand 
on  the  door,  to  prepare  for  his  Paris  trip,  and 
Poltavo  to  take  up  what  promised  to  be  one  of  the 
most  interesting  cases  that  the  Fallock  blackmailers 
had  ever  handled. 

He  waited  until  he  heard  the  door  close  after  the 
detective;  until  he  had  watched  him,  from  the 
window,  step  into  his  cab  and  be  whirled  away, 
then  he  unlocked  the  lower  drawer  of  his  desk, 
touched  a  spring  in  the  false  bottom,  and  took  from 
a  secret  recess  a  small  bundle  of  letters. 

Many  of  the  sheets  of  notepaper  which  he  spread 
out  on  the  table  before  him  bore  the  strawberry 
crest  of  his  grace  the  Duke  of  Ambury.  The  letters 
were  all  in  the  same  sprawling  handwriting;  ill- 
spelt  and  blotted,  but  they  were  very  much  to  the 
point.  The  Duke  of  Ambury,  in  his  exuberant 
youth,  had  contracted  a  marriage  with  a  lady  in 
Gibraltar.  His  regiment  had  been  stationed  at 
that  fortress  when  his  succession  to  the  dukedom 
had  been  a  very  remote  possibility,  and  the  Spanish 
lady  to  whom,  as  the  letters  showed,  he  had  plighted 
his  troth,  and  to  whom  he  was  eventually  married 
in  the  name  of  Wilson  (a  copy  of  the  marriage  cer- 
tificate was  in  the  drawer),  had  been  a  typical 
Spaniard  of  singular  beauty  and  fascination, 
though  of  no  distinguished  birth. 


244  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Apparently  his  grace  had  regretted  his  hasty 
alliance,  for  two  years  after  his  succession  to  the 
title,  he  had  married  the  third  daughter  of  the 
Earl  of  Westchester  without — so  far  as  the  evidence 
in  Poltavo's  possession  showed — having  gone 
through  the  formality  of  releasing  himself  from  his 
previous  union. 

Here  was  a  magnificent  coup,  the  most  splendid 
that  had  ever  come  into  the  vision  of  the  black- 
mailers, for  the  Duke  of  Ambury  was  one  of  the 
richest  men  in  England,  a  landlord  who  owned 
half  London  and  had  estates  in  almost  every  county. 
If  ever  there  was  a  victim  who  was  in  a  position  to 
be  handsomely  bled,  here  was  one. 

The  Spanish  wife  was  now  dead,  but  an  heir  had 
been  born  to  the  Duke  of  Ambury  before  the  death, 
and  the  whole  question  of  succession  was  affected 
by  the  threatened  disclosure.  All  the  facts  of  the 
case  were  in  Poltavo's  possession ;  they  were  written 
in  this  curiously  uneducated  hand  which  filled  the 
pages  of  the  letters  now  spread  upon  the  table  in 
front  of  him.  The  marriage  certificate  had  been 
supplied,  and  a  copy  of  the  death  certificate  had  also 
been  obligingly  extracted  by  a  peccant  servant,  and 
matters  were  now  so  far  advanced  that  Poltavo  had 
received,  through  the  Agony  column  of  the  Times, 
a.  reply  to  the  demand  he  had  sent  to  his  victim. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  245 

That  reply  had  been  very  favourable;  there  had 
been  no  suggestion  of  lawyers ;  no  hint  of  any  inter- 
vention on  the  part  of  the  police.  Ambury  was 
willing  to  be  bled,  willing  indeed,  so  the  agony 
advertisement  indicated  to  Poltavo,  to  make  any 
financial  sacrifice  in  order  to  save  the  honour  of  his 
house. 

It  was  only  a  question  of  terms  now.  Poltavo 
had  decided  upon  fifty  thousand  pounds.  That 
sum  would  be  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  clear  out 
of  England  and  to  enjoy  life  as  he  best  loved  it, 
without  the  necessity  for  taking  any  further  risks. 
With  Doris  Gray  removed  from  his  hands,  with 
the  approval  of  society  already  palling  upon  him, 
he  thirsted  for  new  fields  and  new  adventures.  The 
fifty  thousand  seemed  now  within  his  grasp.  He 
should,  by  his  agreement  with  Farrington,  hand 
two-thirds  of  that  sum  to  his  employer,  but  even 
the  possibility  of  his  doing  this  never  for  one  mo- 
ment occurred  to  him. 

Farrington,  so  he  told  himself,  a  man  in  hiding, 
powerless  and  in  Poltavo's  hands  practically,  could 
not  strike  back  at  him ;  the  cards  were  all  in  favour 
of  the  Count.  He  had  already  received  some  ten 
thousand  pounds  as  a  result  of  his  work  in  London, 
and  he  had  frantic  and  ominous  letters  from  Dr. 
Fall  demanding  that  the  "  house  "  share  should  be 


246  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

forwarded  without  delay.  These  demands  Poltavo 
had  treated  with  contempt.  He  felt  master  of  the 
situation,  inasmuch  that  he  had  placed  the  major 
portion  of  the  balance  of  money  in  hand,  other  than 
that  which  had  been  actually  supplied  by  Farrington, 
to  his  own  credit  in  a  Paris  bank.  He  was  prepared 
for  all  eventualities,  and  here  he  was  promised  the 
choicest  of  all  his  pickings — for  the  bleeding  of  the 
Duke  of  Ambury  would  set  a  seal  upon  previous 
accomplishments. 

He  rang  a  bell,  and  a  man  came,  letting  himself 
into  the  room  with  a  key.  He  was  an  Italian  with 
a  peculiarly  repulsive  face;  one  of  the  small  fry 
whom  Poltavo  had  employed  from  time  to  time  to 
do  such  work  as  was  beneath  his  own  dignity,  or 
which  promised  an  unnecessary  measure  of  danger 
in  its  performance. 

"  Carlos,"  said  Poltavo,  speaking  in  Italian, 
"  Antonio  has  been  arrested,  and  has  been  taken  to 
Calais  by  the  police." 

"  That  I  know,  signer,"  nodded  the  man.  "  He 
is  very  fortunate.  I  was  afraid  when  the  news 
came  that  he  would  be  put  into  prison." 

Poltavo  smiled. 

"  The  ways  of  the  English  police  are  beyond  under- 
standing," he  said  lightly.  "  Here  was  our  Antonio, 
anxious  and  willing  to  kill  the  head  of  the  detective 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  247 

department,  and  they  release  him!  Is  it  not  mad- 
ness? At  any  rate,  Antonio  will  not  be  coming- 
back,  because  though  they  are  mad,  the  police  are 
not  so  foolish  as  to  allow  him  to  land  again.  I  have 
telegraphed  to  our  friend  to  go  on  to  Paris  and 
await  me,  and  here  let  me  say,  Carlos," — he  tapped 
the  table  with  the  end  of  his  penholder, — "  that  if 
you  by  ill-fortune  should  ever  find  yourself  in  the 
same  position  of  our  admirable  and  worthy  Antonio, 
I  beg  that  you  will  not  send  me  telegrams." 

"  You  may  be  assured,  excellent  signer,"  said  the 
man  with  a  little  grin,  "  that  I  shall  not  send  you 
telegrams,  for  I  cannot  write." 

"  A  splendid  deficiency,"  said  Poltavo. 

He  took  up  a  letter  from  the  table. 

"  You  will  deliver  this  to  a  person  who  will  meet 
you  at  the  corner  of  Branson  Square.  The  exact 
position  I  have  already  indicated  to  you." 

The  man  nodded. 

"  This  person  will  give  you  in  exchange  another 
letter.  You  will  not  return  to  me  but  you  will  go 
to  your  brother's  house  in  Great  Saffron  Street, 
and  outside  that  house  yon  will  see  a  man  standing 
who  wears  a  long  overcoat.  You  will  brush  past 
him,  and  in  doing  so  you  will  drop  this  envelope 
into  his  pocket — you  understand?" 

"  Excellency,  I  quite  understand,"  said  the  man. 


248  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Go,  and  God  be  with  you,"  said  the  pious 
Poltavo,  sending  forth  a  message  which  he  believed 
would  bring  consternation  and  terror  into  the  bosom 
of  the  Duke  of  Ambury. 

It  was  late  that  night  when  Carlos  Freggetti 
came  down  a  steep  declivity  into  Great  Saffron 
Street  and  walked  swiftly  along  that  deserted 
thoroughfare  till  he  came  to  his  brother's  house. 
His  brother  was  a  respectable  Italian  artisan,  en- 
gaged by  an  asphalt  company  in  London.  Near 
the  narrow  door  of  the  tenement  in  which  his  rela- 
tive lived,  a  stranger  stood,  apparently  awaiting 
some  one.  Carlos,  in  passing  him,  stumbled  and 
apologized  under  his  breath.  At  that  moment  he 
slipped  the  letter  into  the  other's  pocket.  His  quick 
eyes  noted  the  identity  of  the  stranger.  It  was 
Poltavo.  No  one  else  was  in  the  street,  and  in  the 
dim  light  even  the  keenest  of  eyes  would  not  have 
seen  the  transfer  of  the  envelope.  Poltavo  strolled 
to  the  end  of  the  thoroughfare,  jumped  into  the  taxi- 
cab  which  was  waiting  and  reached  his  house  after 
various  transferences  of  cabs  without  encountering 
any  of  T.  B.'s  watchful  agents.  In  his  room  he 
opened  the  letter  with  an  anxious  air4.  Would 
Ambury  agree  to  the  exorbitant  sum  he  had 
demanded?  And  if  he  did  not  agree,  what  sum 
would  he  be  prepared  to  pay  as  the  price  of  the  black- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  249 

mailer's  silence?  The  first  words  brought  relief 
to  him. 

"  I  am  willing  to  pay  the  sum  you  ask,  although 
I  think  you  are  guilty  of  a  dastardly  crime,"  read 
the  letter,  "  and  since  you  seem  to  suspect  my  bona- 
fides,  I  shall  chose,  as  an  agent  to  carry  the  money 
to  you,  an  old  labourer  on  my  Lancashire  estate 
who  will  be  quite  ignorant  of  the  business  in  hand, 
and  who  will  give  you  the  money  in  exchange  for 
the  marriage  certificate.  If  you  will  choose  a  ren- 
dezvous where  you  can  meet,  a  rendezvous  which 
fulfills  all  your  requirements  as  to  privacy,  I  will 
undertake  to  have  my  man  on  the  spot  at  the  time 
you  wish." 

There  was  a  triumphant  smile  on  Poltavo's  face 
as  he  folded  the  letter. 

"  Now,"  he  said  half  aloud,  "  now,  my  friend 
Farrington,  you  and  I  will  part  company.  You  have 
ceased  to  be  of  any  service  to  me;  your  value  has 
decreased  in  the  same  proportion  as  my  desire 
for  freedom  has  advanced.  Fifty  thousand 
pounds ! "  he  repeated  admiringly.  "  Ernesto, 
you  have  a  happy  time  before  you.  All  the 
continent  of  Europe  is  at  your  feet,  and  this 
sad  England  is  behind  you.  Congratulations, 
aniigo!" 

The  question  of  the  rendezvous  was  an  important 


250  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

one.  Though  he  read  into  the  letter  an  eagerness 
on  the  part  of  his  victim  to  do  anything  to  avoid 
the  scandal  and  the  exposure  which  Poltavo  threat- 
ened, yet  he  did  not  trust  him.  The  old  farm 
labourer  was  a  good  idea,  but  where  could  they 
meet?  When  Poltavo  had  kidnapped  Frank 
Doughton  he  had  intended  taking  him  to  a  little 
house  he  had  hired  in  the  East  End  of  London. 
The  journey  to  the  Secret  House  was  a  mere  blind 
to  throw  suspicion  upon  Farrington  and  to  put  the 
police  off  the  real  track.  The  car  would  have  re- 
turned to  London,  and  under  the  influence  of  a  drug 
he  had  intended  to  smuggle  Frank  into  the  small 
house  at  West  Ham,  where  he  was  to  be  detained 
until  the  period  which  Farrington  had  stipulated 
had  expired. 

But  the  transfer  of  money  in  the  house  was  a 
different  matter.  The  place  could  be  surrounded 
by  police.  No,  it  must  be  an  open  space;  such  a 
space  as  would  enable  Poltavo  to  command  a  clear 
view  on  every  side. 

Why  not  Great  Bradley,  he  thought,  after  a 
while?  Again  he  would  be  serving  two  purposes. 
He  would  be  leading  the  police  to  the  Secret  House, 
and  he  would  have  the  mansion  of  mystery  and  all 
its  resources  as  a  refuge  in  case  anything  went 
wrong  at  the  last  moment.  He  could,  in  the 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  251 

worst  extremity,  explain  that  he  was  collecting  the 
money  on  behalf  of  Farrington. 

Yes,  Great  Bradley  and  the  wild  stretch  of  down 
on  the  south  of  the  town  was  the  place.  He  made 
his  arrangements  accordingly. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  three  days  after  the  exchange  of  letters 
that  Count  Poltavo,  in  the  rough  tweeds  of 
a  country  gentleman — a  garb  which  hardly  suited 
his  figure  or  presence — strolled  carelessly  across  the 
downs,  making  his  way  to  their  highest  point,  a 
great  rolling  slope,  from  the  crest  of  which  a  man 
could  see  half  a  dozen  miles  in  every  direction. 

The  sky  was  overcast  and  a  chill  wind  blew;  it 
was  such  a  day  upon  which  he  might  be  certain  no 
pleasure-seekers  would  be  abroad.  To  his  left,  half 
hidden  in  the  furthermost  shelter  of  the  downs, 
veiled  as  it  was  for  ever  under  a  haze  of  blue  grey 
smoke,  lay  Great  Bradley,  with  its  chimneys  and 
its  busy  industrial  life.  To  his  right  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  square  ugly  fagade  of  the  Secret 
House,  half  hidden  by  the  encircling  trees.  To  its 
right  was  a  chimney  stack  from  which  a  lazy  feather 
of  smoke  was  drifting.  Behind  him  the  old  engine 

house  of  the  deserted  mines,  and  to  the  right  of  that 

252 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  253 

the  pretty  little  cottage  from  which  a  week  before 
Lady  Constance  Dex  had  so  mysteriously  disap- 
peared, and  which  in  consequence  had  been  an 
object  of  pilgrimage  for  the  whole  countryside. 

But  Lady  Constance  Dex's  disappearance  had 
become  a  nine  days'  wonder.  There  were  many 
explanations  offered  for  her  unexpected  absence. 
The  police  of  the  country  were  hunting  systemati- 
cally and  leisurely,  and  only  T.  B.  and  those  in  his 
immediate  confidence  were  satisfied  that  the  missing 
woman  was  less  than  two  miles  away  from  the  scene 
of  her  disappearance. 

Count  Poltavo  had  armed  himself  with  a  pair  of 
field-glasses,  and  now  he  carefully  scrutinized  all 
the  roads  which  led  to  the  downs.  A  motor-car, 
absurdly  diminutive  from  the  distance,  came 
spinning  along  the  winding  white  road  two  miles 
away.  He  watched  it  as  it  mounted  the  one  hill 
and  descended  the  other,  and  kept  his  glasses  on  it 
until  it  vanished  in  a  cloud  of  dust  on  the  London 
road.  Then  he  saw  what  he  sought.  Coming 
across  the  downs  a  mile  away  was  the  bent  figure  of 
a  man  who  stopped  now  and  again  to  look  about,  as 
though  uncertain  as  to  the  direction  he  should  take. 
Poltavo,  lying  flat  upon  the  ground,  his  glasses  fixed 
upon  the  man,  waited,  watching  the  slow  progress 
with  lazy  interest. 


254  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

He  saw  an  old  man,  white-bearded  and  grey- 
haired,  carrying  his  hat  in  his  hand  as  he  walked. 
His  rough  homespun  clothing,  his  collarless  shirt 
open  at  the  throat,  the  plaid  scarf  around  his  neck, 
all  these  Poltavo  saw  through  his  powerful  glasses 
and  was  satisfied. 

This  was  not  the  kind  of  man  to  play  tricks,  he 
smiled  to  himself.  Poltavo's  precautions  had  been 
of  an  elaborate  nature.  Three  roads  led  to  the 
downs,  and  in  positions  at  equal  distances  from 
where  he  stood  he  had  placed  three  cars.  He  was 
ready  for  all  emergencies.  If  he  had  to  fly,  then 
whichever  way  of  escape  was  necessary  would 
bring  him  to  a  means  of  placing  a  distance  between 
himself  and  any  possible  pursuer. 

The  old  man  came  nearer.  Poltavo  made  a  hasty 
but  narrow  survey  of  the  messenger. 

"  Good,"  he  said. 

He  walked  to  meet  the  old  man. 

"  You  have  a  letter  for  me  ?  "  he  inquired. 

The  other  glanced  at  him  suspiciously. 

"  Name  ?  "  he  asked  gruffly. 

"  My  name,"  said  the  smiling  Pole,  "  is 
Poltavo." 

Slowly  the  messenger  groped  in  his  pockets  and 
produced  a  heavy  package.  "  You've  got  to  give 
me  something,"  he  said. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  255 

Poltavo  handed  over  a  sealed  packet,  receiving- 
in  exchange  the  messenger's. 

Again  Poltavo  shot  a  smiling  glance  at  this  sturdy 
old  man.  Save  for  the  beard  and  the  grey  hair 
which  showed  beneath  the  broad-brimmed,  wide- 
awake hat,  this  might  have  been  a  young  man. 

*  This  is  an  historic  meeting,"  Poltavo  went  on 
gaily.  His  heart  was  light  and  his  spirits  as  buoy- 
ant as  ever  they  had  been  in  his  life.  All  the  pros- 
pects which  this  envelope,  now  bulging  in  his  pocket, 
promised,  rose  vividly  before  his  eyes. 

'  Tell  me  your  name,  my  old  friend,  that  I  may 
carry  it  with  me,  and  on  some  occasion  which  is 
not  yet,  that  I  may  toast  your  health." 

"  My  name,"  said  the  old  man,  "  is  T.  B.  Smith, 
and  I  shall  take  you  into  custody  on  a  charge  of 
attempting  to  extort  money  by  blackmail." 

Poltavo  sprang  back,  his  face  ashen.  One  hand 
dived  for  his  pistol-pocket,  but  before  he  could  reach 
it  T.  B.  was  at  his  throat.  That  moment  the  Pole 
felt  two  arms  gripping  him,  two  steel  bands  they 
seemed,  and  likely  to  crush  his  arms  into  his  very 
body.  Then  he  went  over  with  the  full  weight  of 
the  detective  upon  him,  and  was  momentarily 
stunned  by  the  shock.  He  came  to  himself  rapidly, 
but  not  quickly  enough.  He  was  conscious  of 
something  cold  about  his  wrists,  and  a  none  too 


256  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

kindly  hand  dragged  him  to  his  feet.  T.  B.  with  his 
white  beard  all  awry  was  a  comical  figure,  but 
Poltavo  had  no  sense  of  humour  at  that  moment. 

"  I  think  I  have  you  at  last,  my  friend,"  said 
T.  B.  pleasantly.  He  was  busy  removing  his  dis- 
guise and  wiping  his  face  clean  of  the  grease  paint, 
which  had  been  necessary,  with  a  handkerchief 
which  was  already  grimy  with  his  exertions. 

:<  You  will  have  some  difficulty  in  proving  any- 
thing against  me,"  said  the  other  defiantly ;  "  there 
is  only  you  and  I,  and  my  word  is  as  good  as  yours. 
As  to  the  Duke  of  Ambury " 

T.  B.  laughed,  a  long  chuckling  laugh  of  de- 
light. 

"  My  poor  man,"  he  said  pityingly,  "  there  is  no 
,Duke  of  Ambury.  I  depended  somewhat  upon 
your  ignorance  of  English  nobility,  but  I  confess 
that  I  did  not  think  you  would  fall  so  quickly  to  the 
bait.  The  Dukedom  of  Ambury  ceased  to  exist 
two  hundred  years  ago.  It  is  one  of  those  titles 
which  have  fallen  into  disuse.  Ambury  Castle, 
from  which  the  letters  were  addressed  to  you,  is 
a  small  suburban  villa  on  the  outskirts  of  Bolton, 
the  rent  of  which,"  he  said  carefully,  "  is,  I  believe, 
some  forty  pounds  a  year.  We  English  have  a 
greater  imagination  than  you  credit  us  with,  Count," 
he  went  on,  "  and  imagination  takes  no  more  com- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  257 

mon  flight  than  the  namings  of  the  small  dwellings 
of  our  humble  fellow-citizens." 

He  took  his  prisoner  by  the  arm  and  led  him 
across  the  downs, 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?"  asked 
Poltavo. 

"  I  shall  first  of  all  take  you  to  Great  Bradley 
police  station,  and  then  I  shall  convey  you  to 
London,"  said  T.  B.  "  I  have  three  warrants  for 
you,  including  an  extradition  warrant  issued  on 
behalf  of  the  Russian  Government,  but  I  think  they 
may  have  to  wait  a  little  while  before  they  obtain 
any  satisfaction  for  your  past  misdeeds." 

The  direction  they  took  led  them  to  Moor  Cottage. 
In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  a  force  of  police  would  be 
on  the  spot,  for  T.  B.  had  timed  his  arrangements 
almost  to  the  minute.  He  opened  the  door  of  the 
cottage  and  pushed  his  prisoner  inside. 

"We  will  avoid  the  study,"  he  smiled;  "you 
probably  know  our  mutual  friend  Lady  Constance 
Dex  disappeared  under  somewhat  extraordinary 
circumstances  from  that  room,  and  since  I  have 
every  wish  to  keep  you,  we  will  take  the  drawing- 
room  as  a  temporary  prison." 

He  opened  the  door  of  the  little  room  in  which 
the  piano  was,  and  indicated  to  his  captive  to  sit 
in  one  of  the  deep-seated  chairs. 


258  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Now,  my  friend,"  said  T.  B.,  "  we  have  a  chance 
of  mutual  understanding.  I  do  not  wish  to  disguise 
from  you  the  fact  that  you  are  liable  to  a  very  heavy 
sentence.  That  you  are  only  an  agent  I  am  aware, 
but  in  this  particular  case  you  were  acting  entirely 
on  your  own  account.  You  have  made  elaborate 
and  thorough  preparations  for  leaving  England." 

Poltavo  smiled. 

"  That  is  true,"  he  said,  frankly. 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"  I  have  seen  your  trunks  all  beautifully  new, 
and  imposingly  labelled,"  he  smiled,  "  and  I  have 
searched  them." 

Poltavo  sat,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  reflectively 
smoothing  his  moustache  with  his  manacled  hands. 

"  Is  there  any  way  I  can  get  out  of  this?"  he 
asked,  after  a  while. 

"  You  can  make  things  much  easier  for  yourself," 
replied  T.  B.  quietly. 

"  In  what  way  ?  " 

"  By  telling  me  all  you  know  about  Farrington 
and  giving  me  any  information  you  can  about  the 
Secret  House.  Where,  for  instance,  is  Lady  Con- 
stance Dex?  " 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  She  is  alive,  I  can  tell  you  that.  I  had  a  letter 
from  Fall  in  which  he  hinted  as  much.  I  do  not 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  259 

know  how  they  captured  her,  or  the  circumstances 
of  the  case.  All  I  can  tell  you  is  that  she  is  per- 
fectly well  and  being  looked  after.  You  see  Far- 
rington  had  to  take  her — she  shot  at  him  once — 
hastened  his  disappearance  in  fact,  and  there  was 
evidence  that  she  was  planning  further  reprisals. 
As  to  the  mysteries  of  the  Secret  House,"  he  said, 
frankly,  "  I  know  little  or  nothing.  Farrington,  of 
course,  is " 

"Montague  Fallock,"  said  T.  B.  quietly.  "I 
know  that  also." 

"  Then  what  else  do  you  want  to  know?  "  askfd 
the  other,  in  surprise.  "  I  am  perfectly  willing, 
if  you  can  make  it  easy  for  me,  to  tell  you  every- 
thing. The  man  who  is  known  as  Moole  is  a  half- 
witted old  farm  labourer  who  was  picked  up  by 
Farrington  some  years  ago  to  serve  his  purpose. 
He  is  the  man  who  unknowingly  poses  as  a  million- 
aire. It  is  his  estate  which  Farrington  is  supposed 
to  be  administering.  You  see,"  he  explained,  "  this 
rather  takes  off  the  suspicion  which  naturally  at- 
taches to  a  house  which  nobody  visits,  and  it  gives 
the  inmates  a  certain  amount  of  protection." 

"  That  I  understand,"  said  T.  B. ;  "  it  is,  as  you 
say,  an  ingenious  idea — what  of  Fall?" 

Poltavo  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  know  as  much  of  him  as  I.     There  are, 


2<5o  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

however,  many  things  which  you  may  not  know," 
he  went  on  slowly,  "  and  of  these  there  is  one  which 
you  would  pay  a  high  price  to  learn.  You  will  never 
take  Farrington." 

"May  I  ask  why?"  asked  T.  B.  interestedly. 

"That  is  my  secret,"  said  the  other;  "that  is 
the  secret  I  am  willing  to  sell  you." 

"  And  the  price  ?  "  asked  T.  B.  after  a  pause. 

"  The  price  is  my  freedom,"  said  the  other  boldly. 
"  I  know  you  can  do  anything  with  the  police.  As 
yet,  no  charge  has  been  made  against  me.  At  the 
most,  it  is  merely  a  question  of  attempting  to  obtain 
money  by  a  trick — and  even  so  you  will  have  some 
difficulty  in  proving  that  I  am  guilty.  Yes,  I  know 
you  will  deny  this,  but  I  have  some  knowledge  of 
the  law,  Mr.  Smith,  and  I  have  also  some  small 
experience  of  English  juries.  It  is  not  the  English 
law  that  I  am  afraid  of,  and  it  is  noLthe  sentence 
which  your  judges  will  pass  upon  me  Which  fills  me 
with  apprehension.  I  am  afraid  of  my  treatment 
at  the  hands  of  the  Russian  Government." 

He  shivered  a  little. 

"  It  is  because  I  wish  to  avoid  extradition  that  I 
make  this  offer.  Put  things  right  for  me,  and  I  will 
place  in  your  hands,  not  only  the  secret  of  Farring- 
ton's  scheme  for  escape,  but  also  the  full  list  of  his 
agents  through  the  country.  You  will  find  them  in 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  261 

no  books,"  he  said  with  a  smile ;  "  my  stay  in  the 
Secret  House  was  mainly  occupied  from  morning 
till  night  in  memorizing  those  names  and  those 
addresses." 

T.  B.  looked  at  him  thoughtfully. 

"  There  is  something  in  what  you  say,"  he  said. 
"  I  must  have  a  moment  to  consider  your  offer." 

He  heard  a  noise  from  the  road  without  and 
pulled  aside  the  blind.  A  car  had  driven  up  and  was 
discharging  a  little  knot  of  plain  clothes  Scotland 
Yard  men.  Amongst  them  he  recognized  Ela. 

"  I  shall  take  the  liberty  of  locking  you  in  this 
room  for  a  few  moments  whilst  I  consult  my 
friends,"  said  T.  B. 

He  went  out,  turned  the  key  in  the  lock  and  put 
it  in  his  pocket.  Outside  he  met  Ela. 

"  Have  you  got  him  ?  "  asked  the  detective. 

T.  B.  nodded. 

"  I  have  taken  him,"  he  said ;  "  moreover,  7 
rather  fancy  I  have  got  the  whole  outfit  in  my  hands." 

"  T&he  Secret  House  ?  "  asked  Ela  eagerly. 

"  Everything,"  said  T.  B. ;  "  it  all  depends  upon 
what  we  can  do  with  Poltavo.  If  we  can  avoid 
bringing  him  before  a  magistrate,  I  can  smash 
this  organization.  I  know  it  is  contrary  to  the  law, 
but  it  is  in  the  interests  of  the  law.  How  many  men 
have  we  available?  " 


262  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  There  are  a  hundred  and  fifty  in  the  town  of 
Great  Bradley  itself,"  said  Ela  calmly :  "  half  of  them 
local  constabulary,  and  half  of  them  our  own  men." 

"  Send  a  man  down  to  order  them  to  take  up  a 
position  round  the  Secret  House,  allow  nobody  to 
leave  it,  stop  all  motor-cars  approaching  or  depart- 
ing from  the  house,  and  above  all  things  no  car  is 
to  leave  Great  Bradley  without  its  occupants  being 
carefully  scrutinized.  What's  that?"  he  turned 
suddenly 

A  sudden  muffled  scream  had  broken  into  the 
conversation  and  it  had  come  from  the  inside  of 
the  cottage. 

"Quick!"  snapped  T.  B. 

He  sprang  into  the  passage  of  the  cottage,  reached 
the  door  of  the  room  where  he  had  left  his  prisoner, 
slipped  the  key  in  the  lock  with  an  unerring  hand 
and  flung  open  the  door. 

The  room  was  empty. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

FARRINGTON  and  Dr.  Fall  were  closeted  to- 
gether in  the  latter's  office.  Something  had 
happened,  which  was  responsible  for  the  gloom  on 
the  face  of  the  usually  imperturbable  doctor,  and 
for  the  red  rage^which  glowered  in  the  older  man's 
eyes. 

"  You  are  sure  of  this?  "  he  asked. 

"  Quite  sure,"  said  Dr.  Fall  briefly ;  "  he  is 
making  every  preparation  to  leave  London.  His 
trunks  went  away  from  Charing  Cross  last  night 
for  Paris.  He  has  let  his  house  and  collected  the 
rent  in  advance,  and  he  has  practically  sold  the 
furniture.  There  can  be  no  question  whatever 
that  our  friend  has  betrayed  us." 

"  He  would  not  dare,"  breathed  Farrington. 

The  veins  stood  out  on  his  forehead;  he  was 
controlling  his  passionate  temper  by  a  supreme 
effort. 

263 


264  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  saved  this  man  from  beggary,  Fall ;  I  took 
the  dog  out  of  the  gutter,  and  I  gave  him  a  chance 
when  he  had  already  forfeited  his  life.  He  would 
not  dare !  " 

"  My  experience  of  criminals  of  this  character," 
said  Dr.  Fall  calmly,  "  is  that  they  will  dare  any- 
thing. You  see,  he  is  a  particularly  obnoxious 
specimen  of  his  race;  all  suaveness,  treachery, 
and  remorseless  energy.  He  would  betray  you; 
he  would  betray  his  own  brother.  Did  he  not  shoot 
his  father — or  his  alleged  father,  some  years  ago? 
I  asked  you  not  to  trust  him,  Farrington;  if  I 
had  had  my  way,  he  would  never  have  left  this 
house." 

Farrington  shook  his  head. 

"  It  was  for  the  girl's  sake  I  let  him  go.  Yes, 
yes,"  he  went  on,  seeing  the  look  of  surprise  in  the 
other's  face,  "  it  was  necessary  that  I  should  have 
somebody  who  stood  in  fear  of  me,  who  would 
further  my  plans  in  that  direction.  The  marriage 
was  necessary." 

"  You  have  been,  if  you  will  pardon  my  ex- 
pressing the  opinion,"  said  Dr.  Fall  moodily,  "  just 
a  little  bit  sentimental,  Farrington." 

The  other  turned  on  him  with  an  oath. 

"  I  want  none  of  your  opinions,"  he  said  gruffly. 
"  You  will  never  understand  how  I  feel  about  this 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  265 

child.  I  took  her  from  her  dead  father,  who  was 
one  of  my  best  friends,  and  I  confess,  that  in  the 
early  days  the  thought  of  exploiting  her  fortune  did 
occur  to  me.  But  as  the  years  passed  she  grew 
towards  me — a  new  and  a  beautiful  influence  in 
life,  Fall.  It  was  something  that  I  had  never  had 
before,  a  factor  which  had  never  occurred  in  my 
stormy  career.  I  grew  to  love  the  child,  to  love 
her  more  than  I  love  money,  and  that  is  saying  a 
lot.  I  wanted  to  do  the  right  thing  for  her,  and 
when  my  speculations  were  going  wrong  and  I  had 
to  borrow  from  her  fortune  I  never  had  any  doubt 
but  what  I  should  be  able  to  pay  it  back.  When 
all  the  money  went," — his  voice  sank  until  it  was 
little  more  than  a  whisper, — "  and  I  realized  that 
I  had  ruined  the  one  human  being  in  the  world 
whom  I  loved,  I  took  the  step  which  of  all  my  crimes 
I  have  most  regretted.  I  sent  George  Doughton 
out  of  the  way  in  order  that  I  might  scheme  to 
marry  Doris  to  the  Tollington  millionaire.  For  I 
knew  the  man  we  were  seeking  was  Doughton.  I 
killed  him,"  he  said  defiantly,  "  for  the  sake  of  his 
son's  wife.  Oh,  the  irony  of  it!"  He  raised  his 
hand  with  a  harsh  laugh.  "The  comedy  of  it! 
As  to  Poltavo,"  he  went  on  more  calmly,  "  I  let 
him  go  because,  as  I  say,  I  wanted  him  to  further 
my  object.  That  he  failed,  or  that  he  was  remiss, 


266  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

does  not  affect  the  argument.  Doris  is  safely 
married,"  he  mused;  "if  she  does  not  love  her 
husband  now,  she  will  love  him  in  time.  She  re- 
spects Frank  Doughton,  and  every  day  that  passes 
will  solidify  that  respect.  I  know  Doris,  and  I 
know  something  of  her  secret  thoughts  and  her 
secret  wishes.  She  will  forget  me," — his  voice 
shook, — "  please  God  she  will  forget  me." 

He  changed  the  subject  quickly. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Poltavo  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"Nothing  at  all,"  said  Fall;  "he  has  been  com- 
municating with  somebody  or  other,  and  the  usual 
letters  have  been  passing.  Our  man  says  that  he 
has  a  big  coup  on,  but  upon  that  Poltavo  has  not 
informed  us." 

"  If  I  thought  he  was  going  to  play  us  false " 

"What  would  you  do?"  asked  Fall  quietly. 
"  He  is  out  of  our  hands  now." 

There  was  a  little  buzz  in  one  corner  of  the  room, 
and  Fall  turned  his  startled  gaze  upon  the  other. 

"  From  the  signal  tower,"  he  said.  "  I  wonder 
what  is  wrong." 

High  above  the  house  was  one  square  solitary 
tower,  in  which,  day  and  night,  a  watcher  was 
stationed.  Fall  went  to  the  telephone  and  took 
down  the  receiver.  He  spoke  a  few  words  and 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  267 

listened,  then  he  hung  up  the  receiver  again  and 
turned  to  Farrington. 

"  Poltavo  is  in  Great  Bradley,"  he  said ;  "  one  of 
our  men  has  seen  him  and  signaled  to  the  house." 

"  In  Great  Bradley !  "  Farrington's  eyes  nar- 
rowed. "  What  is  he  doing  here  ?  " 

"  What  was  his  car  doing  here  the  other  day," 
asked  Fall,  "  when  he  kidnapped  Frank  Doughton  ? 
It  was  here  to  throw  suspicion  on  us  and  take  sus- 
picion off  himself,  the  most  obvious  thing  in  the 
world." 

Again  the  buzzer  sounded,  and  again  Fall  carried 
on  a  conversation  with  the  man  on  the  roof  in  a  low 
tone. 

"Poltavo  is  on  the  downs,"  he  said;  "he  has 
evidently  come  to  meet  somebody;  the  look-out 
says  he  can  see  him  from  the  tower  through  his 
glasses,  and  that  there  is  a  man  making  his  way 
towards  him." 

"  Let  us  see  for  ourselves,"  said  Farrington. 

They  passed  out  of  the  room  into  another,  opened 
what  appeared  to  be  a  cupboard  door,  but  which 
was  in  reality  one  of  the  innumerable  elevators 
with  which  the  house  was  furnished,  and  for  the 
working  of  which  the  great  electrical  plant  was  so 
necessary. 

They  stepped  into  the  lift,  and  in  a'  few  seconds 


268  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

had  reached  the  interior  of  the  tower,  with  its 
glass-paned  observation  windows  and  its  telescopes. 
One  of  the  foreign  workmen,  whom  Farrington 
employed,  was  carefully  scrutinizing  the  distant 
downs  through  a  telescope  which  stood  upon  a  large 
tripod. 

"  There  he  is,"  he  said. 

Farrington  looked.  There  was  no  mistaking 
Poltavo,  but  who  the  other  man  was,  an  old  man 
doubled  with  age,  his  white  beard  floating  in  the 
wind,  Farrington  could  not  say;  he  could  only  con- 
jecture. 

Dr.  Fall,  searching  the  downs  with  another  tele- 
scope, was  equally  in  the  dark. 

"  This  is  the  intermediary,"  said  Farrington  at 
last. 

They  watched  the  meeting,  saw  the  exchange  of 
the  letters,  and  Farrington  uttered  a  curse.  Then 
suddenly  he  saw  the  other  leap  upon  Poltavo  and 
witnessed  the  brief  struggle  on  the  ground.  Saw 
the  glitter  of  handcuffs  and  turned  with  a  white  face 
to  the  doctor. 

"  My  God !  "  he  whispered.     "  Trapped !  " 

For  the  space  of  a  few  seconds  they  looked  one  at 
the  other. 

"  Will  he  betray  us  ?  "  asked  Farrington,  voicing 
the  unspoken  thoughts  of  Fall. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  269 

"  He  will  betray  us  as  much  as  he  can,"  said  the 
other.  "  We  must  watch  and  see  what  happens. 
If  he  takes  him  into  town,  we  are  lost." 

"Is  there  any  sign  of  police?"  asked  Farring- 
ton. 

They  scanned  the  horizon,  but  there  was  no  evi- 
dence of  a  lurking  force,  and  they  turned  to  watch 
T.  B.  Smith  and  his  prisoner  making  their  slow  way 
across  the  downs.  For  five  minutes  they  stood 
watching,  then  Fall  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  They  are  going  to  the  cottage ! "  he  said,  and 
again  the  men's  eyes  met. 

"  Impossible,"  said  Farrington,  but  there  was  a 
little  glint  in  his  eye  which  spoke  of  the  hope  behind 
the  word. 

Again  an  interval  of  silence.  Three  pairs  of  eyes 
followed  the  men. 

"  It  is  the  cottage!  "  said  Fall.     "  Quick! " 

In  an  instant  the  two  men  were  in  the  lift  and 
shooting  downwards;  they  did  not  stop  till  they 
reached  the  basement. 

'  You  have  a  pistol  ?  "  asked  Farrington. 

Fall  nodded.  They  quitted  the  lift  and  walked 
swiftly  along  a  vaulted  corridor,  lighted  at  intervals 
with  lamps  set  in  niches.  On  their  way  they 
passed  a  door  made  in  the  solid  wall  to  their  left. 

"  We  must  get  her  out  of  this,  if  necessary,"  said 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Farnngton  in  a  low  voice.  "  She  is  not  giving  any 
trouble?" 

Dr.  Fall  shook  his  head. 

"  A  most  tactful  prisoner,"  he  said,  dryly. 

At  the  end  of  the  corridor  was  another  door. 
Fall  fitted  a  key  and  swung  open  the  heavy  iron 
portal  and  the  two  men  passed  through  to  a 
darkened  chamber.  Fall  found  the  switch  and 
illuminated  the  apartment.  It  was  a  little  room 
innocent  of  windows,  and  lit  as  all  the  rest  of  the 
basement  was  by  cornice  lamps.  In  one  corner  was 
a  grey-painted  iron  door.  This  Fall  pushed  aside 
on  its  noiseless  runners.  There  was  another 
elevator  here.  The  two  men  stepped  in  and  the  lift 
sunk  and  sunk  until  it  seemed  as  though  it  would 
never  come  to  the  end.  It  stopped  at  last,  and  the 
men  stepped  out  into  a  rock-hewn  gallery. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  this  was  one  of  the  old 
disused  galleries  of  the  old  mine  over  which  the 
house  was  built.  Fall  found  the  switch  he  sought 
and  instantly  the  corridor  was  flooded  with  bright 
light. 

On  a  set  of  rails  which  ran  the  whole  length  of 
the  gallery  to  a  point  which  was  out  of  sight  from 
where  they  stood,  was  a  small  trolley.  It  was  unlike 
the  average  trolley  in  that  it  was  obviously  electric- 
ally driven.  A  third  rail  supplied  the  energy,  and 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  271 

the  controlling  levers  were  at  the  driver's  hand. 

Farrington  climbed  to  the  seat,  and  his  com- 
panion followed,  and  with  a  whirr  of  wheels  and  a 
splutter  of  sparks  where  the  motor  brush  caught 
the  rail,  the  little  trolley  drove  forward  at  full 
speed. 

They  slowed  at  the  gentle  curves,  increased  speed 
again  when  any  uninterrupted  length  of  gallery 
gave  them  encouragement,  and  after  five  minutes' 
travel  Farrington  pulled  back  the  lever  and  applied 
the  brake.  They  stepped  out  into  a  huge  chamber 
similar  to  that  which  they  had  just  left.  There  was 
the  inevitable  lift  set,  as  it  seemed,  in  the  heart  of 
the  rock,  though  in  reality  it  was  a  bricked  space. 
The  two  men  entered  and  the  lift  rose  noiselessly. 

"  We  will  go  up  slowly,"  whispered  Fall  in  the 
other's  ear;  "  it  will  not  do  to  make  a  noise  or  to 
arouse  any  suspicions ;  we  must  not  forget  that  we 
have  T.  B.  Smith  to  deal  with." 

Farrington  nodded,  and  presently  the  lift  stopped 
of  its  own  accord.  They  made  no  attempt  to  open 
whatever  door  was  before  them.  They  could  hear 
voices:  one  was  T.  B.'s,  and  the  other  was  unmis- 
takably Poltavo's,  and  Poltavo  was  speaking. 

Poltavo  was  offering  in  his  eager  way  to  betray 
the  men  who  sat  in  the  darkness  listening  to  his 
treachery.  They  heard  the  motor-car's  arrival 


272  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

outside,  and  presently  T.  B.'s  voice  announcing  his 
temporary  retirement.  They  heard  the  slam  of  the 
door,  and  the  key  click  in  the  lock,  and  then  Dr.  Fall 
stepped  forward,  pressed  a  spring  in  the  rough 
woodwork  in  front  of  him  and  one  of  the  panels  of 
the  room  slid  silently  back. 

Poltavo  did  not  see  his  visitors  until  they  stood 
over  him,  then  he  read  in  those  hateful  faces  which 
were  turned  toward  him  an  unmistakable  forecast 
of  his  doom. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  he  almost  whispered. 

"  Do  not  raise  your  voice,"  said  Farrington  in  the 
same  tone,  "  or  you  are  a  dead  man."  He  held  the 
point  of  a  knife  at  the  other's  throat. 

"  To  where  are  you  taking  me  ?  "  asked  Poltavo, 
ghastly  white  of  face  and  shaking  from  head  to  foot. 

"  We  are  taking  you  to  a  place  where  your  oppor- 
tunity for  betraying  us  will  be  a  mighty  small  one," 
said  Fall. 

There  was  a  horrible  smile  on  his  thin  lips,  and 
Poltavo,  with  a  premonition  of  what  awaited  him 
beyond  the  tunnel,  forgot  the  menacing  knife  at 
his  throat  and  screamed. 

Hands  gripped  him  and  strangled  the  cry  as  it 
escaped  him.  Something  heavy  struck  him  behind 
the  ear  and  he  lost  consciousness.  He  awoke  to  find 
himself  travelling  smoothly  along  the  rock  gallery. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  273 

He  was  half  lying,  half  reclining  on  Fall's  knees. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  move;  he  knew  now  that 
he  was  in  mortal  peril  of  his  life.  No  word  was 
spoken  when  he  was  dragged  roughly  from  the  car, 
placed  in  another  elevator  and  whirled  upwards, 
emerging  into  a  little  chamber  at  the  end  of  the  un- 
derground corridor  which  ran  beneath  the  Secret 
House. 

A  door  was  opened  and  he  was  thrust  in  without 
a  word.  He  heard  the  clang  of  the  steel  door  behind 
him,  and  the  lights  came  on  to  show  him  that  once 
again  he  was  in  the  underground  room  where  he  had 
been  confined  before. 

There  was  the  table,  there  was  the  heavy  chair, 
there  in  the  far  corner  of  the  room  was  the  barred 
entrance  to  the  other  elevator.  Anyway  he  was 
free  from  the  police;  that  was  something.  He 
was  safe  just  so  long  as  it  suited  the  book  of  Far- 
rington  and  his  friend  to  keep  him  safe.  What 
would  they  do?  What  excuse  could  he  offer? 
They  had  overheard  the  conversation  between 
himself  and  T.  B.,  he  knew  that,  and  cursed  his  folly. 
He  ought  to  have  kept  away  from  Moor  Cottage. 
He  knew  there  was  something  sinister  about  the 
place,  but  T.  B.  should  have  known  that  even  better 
than  he.  Why  had  T.  B.  left  him? 

These  and  a  thousand  other  thoughts  shot  through 


274  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

his  mind  as  he  paced  the  vaulted  apartment.  They 
were  in  no  hurry  to  feed  him.  He  had  almost 
forgotten  what  time  it  was;  whether  it  was  day  or 
night  in  that  underground  vault  into  which  no  ray 
of  sunlight  ever  penetrated.  They  had  Jeft  him 
with  the  handcuffs  on  his  wrists;  they  would  come 
and  relieve  him  of  these  encumbrances.  What 
were  their  plans  with  him?  He  felt  his  pockets 
carefully.  T.  B.  had  taken  away  the  only  weapon 
he  had  had,  and  for  the  first  time  for  many  years 
Count  Poltavo  was  unarmed. 

His  heart  was  beating  with  painful  rapidity  and 
his  breath  came  laboriously.  He  was  terror-stricken. 
He  turned  to  find  the  door  through  which  he  had 
come,  and  to  his  surprise  he  could  not  see  it.  So 
far  as  he  could  detect,  the  stone  wall  ran  without  a 
break  from  one  end  of  the  apartment  to  the  other. 
Escape  could  not  lie  that  way;  of  that  he  was 
satisfied.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  wait, 
with  whatever  patience  he  could  summon,  to  dis- 
cover their  plans.  He  did  not  doubt  that  he  was 
to  suffer.  He  had  forfeited  all  right  to  their  confi- 
dence, but  if  this  was  to  be  the  only  consequence 
of  his  ill-doing  he  was  not  greatly  worried.  Count 
Poltavo,  as  he  had  boasted  before  in  this  identical 
room,  had  been  in  some  tight  corners  and  had 
faced  death  in  many  strange  and  terrible  guises, 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  275 

but  the  inevitability  of  doom  was  never  so  impressed 
upon  his  mind  as  it  was  at  this  moment  when  he 
lay  guarded  by  a  hundred  secret  forces  in  the  tomb 
of  the  Secret  House. 

He  had  one  hope,  a  faint  one,  that  T.  B. 
would  discover  the  method  of  his  exit  from  the 
room  in  Moor  Cottage  and  would  track  him 
here. 

Evidently  the  occupants  of  the  Secret  House 
had  the  same  fear,  for  even  here,  in  the  quietness  of 
his  underground  prison,  Poltavo  could  hear  strange 
whining  noises,  rumbling,  and  groaning  and  grind- 
ing, as  though  the  whole  of  the  house  were  chang- 
ing its  construction. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait  for  news.  A  corner 
lift  came  swiftly  down  and  Fall  stepped  briskly 
towards  his  prisoner. 

"  T.  B.  Smith  is  in  the  house,"  he  said,  "  and  is 
making  an  inspection;  he  will  be  down  here  in  a 
moment.  In  these  circumstances  I  shall  have  to 
betray  one  of  the  secrets  of  this  house."  He  caught 
the  other  roughly  by  the  arm  and  half  led,  half 
dragged,  him  to  a  corner  of  the  room.  Handcuffed 
as  he  was,  Poltavo  could  offer  no  resistance.  Dr. 
Fall  apparently  only  touched  one  portion  of  the 
wall,  but  he  must  have  moved,  either  with  his  foot 
or  with  his  hand,  some  particularly  powerful 


276  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

spring,  for  a  section  of  the  stone  wall  swung  back- 
wards revealing  a  black  gap. 

"  Get  in  there,"  said  Fall,  and  pushed  him  into 
the  darkness. 

A  few  moments  later  T.  B.  Smith,  accompanied 
by  three  detectives,  inspected  the  room  which 
Poltavo  had  left.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  man, 
no  evidence  of  his  having  so  recently  been  an  occu- 
pant of  his  prison  house.  For  an  interminable 
time  Poltavo  stood  in  the  darkness.  He  found  he 
was  in  a  small  cell-like  apartment  with  apparently 
no  outlet  save  that  through  which  he  had  come. 

He  was  able  to  breathe  without  difficulty,  for 
the  perfect  system  of  ventilation  throughout  the 
dungeons  of  the  Secret  House  had  been  its  archi- 
tect's greatest  triumph. 

It  seemed  hours  that  he  waited  there,  though 
in  reality  it  was  less  than  twenty  minutes  after 
his  entrance  that  the  door  swung  open  again  and  he 
was  called  out. 

Farrington  was  in  the  room  now,  Farrington 
with  his  trusty  lieutenant,  and  behind  them  the  one- 
eyed  Italian  desperado  whom  Poltavo  remembered 
seeing  in  the  power  house  one  day,  when  he  had 
been  allowed  the  privilege  of  inspection. 

Some  slight  change  had  been  made  in  the  room 
since  he  was  there  last.  Poltavo's  nerves  were  in 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  277 

such  a  condition  that  he  was  sensitive  to  this  varia- 
tion. He  saw  now  what  the  change  was.  The 
table  had  been  drawn  back  leaving  the  chair  where 
it  was  fixed. 

Yes,  it  was  a  fixed  chair,  he  remembered  that  and 
wondered  why  it  had  been  screwed  to  the  wood 
block  floor.  Dr.  Fall  and  the  engineer  grasped  him 
roughly  and  hurried  him  across  the  room,  thrusting 
him  into  the  chair. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  asked  Poltavo, 
white  as  death. 

"  That  you  shall  see/' 

Deftly  they  strapped  him  to  the  chair;  his 
wrists  and  elbows  were  securely  fastened  to  the 
arms,  and  his  ankles  to  the  legs  of  the  massive  piece 
of  furniture. 

From  where  he  sat  Poltavo  confronted  Far  ring- 
ton,  but  the  big  man's  mask-like  face  did  not  move, 
nor  his  eyes  waiver  as  he  surveyed  his  treacher- 
ous prisoner.  Then  Fall  knelt  down  and  did  some- 
thing, and  Poltavo  heard  the  ripping  and  tearing  of 
cloth. 

They  were  slitting  up  each  trouser  leg,  and  he 
could  not  understand  why. 

"  Is  this  a  joke  ? "  he  asked  with  a  desperate 
attempt  at  airiness. 

No  reply  was  made.     Poltavo  watched  his  cap- 


278  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

tors  curiously.  What  was  the  object  of  it  all? 
The  two  men  busy  at  the  chair  lifted  a  number  of 
curious-looking  objects  from  the  floor;  they  clamped 
one  on  each  wrist,  and  he  felt  the  cold  surface  of 
some  instrument  pressing  against  each  calf.  Still 
he  did  not  realize  the  danger,  or  the  grim  determina- 
tion of  these  men  whose  secret  he  would  have  be- 
trayed. 

"  Mr.  Farrington,"  he  appealed  to  the  big  man, 
"  let  us  have  an  understanding.  I  have  played 
my  game  and  lost." 

"  You  have  indeed,"  said  Farrington. 

They  were  the  first  words  he  had  spoken. 

"  Give  me  enough  to  get  out  of  the  country," 
Poltavo  appealed,  "  just  the  money  that  I  have  in 
my  pocket,  and  I  promise  you  that  I  will  never 
trouble  you  again." 

"  My  friend,"  said  Farrington,  "  I  have  trusted 
you  too  long.  You  forced  yourself  upon  me  when 
I  did  not  desire  you,  you  thwarted  me  at  every 
turn,  you  betrayed  me  whenever  it  was  possible 
to  betray  me,  or  whenever  it  was  to  your  advan- 
tage to  do  so,  and  I  am  determined  that  you 
shall  have  no  other  chance  of  doing  me  an 
injury." 

"What  is  this  foolery?"  asked  Poltavo,  in  a 
mixture  of  blind  fear  and  rage.  They  had  unlocked 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  279 

the  handcuffs  and  taken  them  off  him,  and  now  for 
the  first  time  Poltavo  noticed  that  the  curious 
bronze  clamps  on  his  wrists  were  attached  by  thick 
green  cords  to  a  plug  in  the  wall. 

He  shrieked  aloud  as  he  saw  this,  and  the  full 
horror  of  the  situation  flashed  upon  him. 

"  My  God/'  he  screamed,  "  you  are  not  going  to 
kill  me?" 

Farrington  nodded  slowly. 

"  We  are  going  to  kill  you  painlessly,  Poltavo," 
he  said.  "  It  was  your  life  or  ours.  We  do  not 
desire  to  cause  you  unnecessary  suffering,  but  here 
is  the  end  of  the  adventure  for  you,  my  friend." 

"  You  are  not  going  to  electrocute  me?  "  croaked 
the  man  in  the  chair,  in  a  hoarse  cracked  voice. 
"  Don't  say  that  you  are  going  to  electrocute  me, 
Farrington!  It  is  diabolical,  it  is  terrible.  Give 
me  a  chance  of  life!  Give  me  a  pistol,  give  me  a 
knife,  but  fight  me  fair.  Treat  me  as  you  will; 
hand  me  to  the  police,  anything  but  this;  for 
God's  sake,  Farrington,  don't  do  this !  " 

The  doctor  reached  down  and  lifted  a  leather 
helmet  from  the  floor  and  placed  it  gently  over  the 
doomed  man's  head. 

"  Don't  do  it,  Farrington."  Poltavo's  muffled 
voice  came  painfully  from  behind  the  leather  screen. 
"  Don't!  I  swear  I  will  not  betray  you." 


280  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Farrington  made  a  little  signal  and  the  doctor 
walked  to  the  wall  and  placed  his  hand  upon  a 
black  switch. 

"  I  will  not  betray  you,"  said  the  man  in  the  chair 
in  hollow  tones.  "  Give  me  a  chance.  I  will  not 
tell  them  anything  that  you " 

He  did  not  speak  again,  for  the  black  switch  had 
been  pressed  down  and  death  came  with  merciful 
swiftness. 

They  stood  watching  the  figure.  A  slight  quiver- 
ing of  the  hands  and  then  Farrington  nodded  and 
the  doctor  turned  the  switch  over  again. 

Rapidly  they  unfastened  the  straps,  and  the  limp 
thing  which  was  once  human,  with  a  brain  to  think 
and  a  capacity  for  life  and  love,  slipped  out 
of  the  chair  in  an  inanimate  heap  upon  the 
ground. 

So  passed  Ernesto  Poltavo,  an  adventurer  and  a 
villain,  in  the  prime  of  his  life. 

Farrington  looked  down  upon  the  body  with 
sombre  eyes  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

He  had  opened  his  mouth  to  speak  and  Fall  had 
walked  to  the  switchboard  and  was  about  to  put  the 
deadly  apparatus  out  of  gear,  when  a  sharp  voice 
made  them  both  turn. 

"Hands  up!"  it  said. 

The   stone   door,   fhrough    which    Poltavo   had 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  281 

passed  to  his  doom  from  the  corridor  without,  was 
wide  open,  and  in  the  doorway  stood  T.  B.  and  a 
little  behind  him  Ela,  and  in  T.  B.'s  hand  was  a 
pistol. 


CHAPTER  XX 

TB.  SMITH'S  inspection  of  the  Secret  House 
.  had  yielded  nothing  satisfactory;  he  had 
not  expected  that  it  would;  he  was  perfectly  satis- 
fied that  the  keen,  shrewd  brains  which  dominated 
the  menage  would  remove  any  trace  there  was  of 
foul  play. 

"  Where  now  ?  "  asked  Ela,  as  they  turned  out 
of  the  house. 

"Back  to  Moor  Cottage,"  said  T.  B.,  climbing 
into  the  car.  "  I  am  certain  that  we  are  on  the 
verge  of  our  big  discovery.  There  is  a  way  out  of 
the  cottage  by  some  underground  chamber,  a  way 
by  which  first  Lady  Constance  and  then  Poltavo 
were  smuggled,  and  if  it  is  necessary  I  am  going  to 
smash  every  panel  in  those  two  ground  floor  rooms, 
but  I  will  find  the  way  in  to  Mr.  Farrington's  mys- 
tery house." 

For  half  an  hour  the  two  men  were  engaged  in 
282 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  283 

the  room  from  which  Poltavo  had  been  taken. 
They  probed  with  centre  bits  and  gimlets  into 
every  portion  of  the  room. 

The  first  discovery  that  they  made  was  that  the 
oaken  panels  of  the  chamber  were  backed  with 
sheet  iron  or  steel. 

"  It  is  a  hopeless  job;  we  shall  have  to  get  another 
kind  of  smith  here  to  tear  down  all  the  panellings," 
said  T.  B.,  lighting  the  gloom  of  his  despair  with  a 
little  flash  of  humour. 

He  fingered  the  tiny  locket  absently  and  opened 
it  again. 

"  It  is  absurd,"  he  laughed  helplessly.  "  Here 
is  the  solution  in  these  simple  words,  and  yet  we 
brainy  folk  from  the  Yard  cannot  understand 
them!" 

"God  sav  the  Keng!"  said  Ela  ruefully.  "I 
wonder  how  on  earth  that  is  going  to  help  us." 

A  gasp  from  T.  B.  made  him  turn  his  face  to  his 
chief. 

T.  B.  Smith  was  pointing  at  the  piano.  In  two 
strides  he  was  across  the  room,  and  sitting  on  the 
stool  he  lifted  the  cover  and  struck  a  chord.  The 
instrument  sounded  a  little  flat  and  apparently  had 
not  received  the  attention  of  a  tuner  for  some 
time. 

"  I  am  going  to  play  '  God  save  the  King/  "  said 


284  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

T.  B.  with  a  light  in  his  eyes,  "  and  I  think  some- 
thing is  going  to  happen." 

Slowly  he  pounded  forth  the  familiar  tune ;  from 
beginning  to  end  he  played  it,  and  when  he  had 
finished  he  looked  at  Ela. 

"  Try  it  in  another  key,"  suggested  Ela,  and 
again  T.  B.  played  the  anthem.  He  was  nearing 
the  last  few  bars  when  there  was  a  click  and  he 
leapt  up.  One  long  panel  had  disappeared  from 
the  side  of  the  wall.  For  a  moment  the  two  men 
looked  at  one  another.  They  were  alone  in  the 
house,  although  a  policeman  was  within  call.  The 
main  force  was  gathered  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Secret  House. 

T.  B.  flashed  the  light  of  his  indispensable  and 
inseparable  little  electric  lamp  into  the  dark  in- 
terior. 

"  I  will  go  in  first  and  see  what  happens,"  he 
said. 

"  I  think  we  will  both  go  together,"  said  Ela 
grimly. 

"  There  is  a  switch  here,"  said  T.  B. 

He  pulled  it  down  and  a  small  lamp  glowed, 
illuminating  a  tiny  lift  cage. 

"  And  here  I  presume  are  the  necessary  con- 
trolling buttons,"  said  T.  B.,  pointing  to  a  number 
of  white  discs;  "we  will  try  this  one." 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  285 

He  pressed  the  button  and  instantly  the  cage 
began  to  fall.  It  came  to  a  standstill  after  a  while 
and  the  men  stepped  out. 

"  Part  of  the  old  working,"  said  T.  B. ;  "a  very 
ingenious  idea." 

He  flashed  his  lamp  over  the  walls  to  find  the 
electrical  connection.  They  were  here,  as  they 
were  at  the  other  end,  perfectly  accessible.  An 
instant  later  the  long  corridor  was  lighted  up. 

"  By  heavens,"  said  T.  B.  admiringly,  "  they 
have  even  got  an  underground  tramway;  look 
here!" 

At  this  tiny  terminus  there  were  two  branches 
of  rails  and  a  car  was  in  waiting.  A  few  minutes 
later  T.  B.  Smith  had  reached  the  other  end  of  the 
mine  gallery  and  was  seeking  the  second  elevator. 

"  Here  we  are,"  he  said — "  everything  run  by 
electricity.  I  thought  that  power  house  of  Far- 
rington's  had  a  pretty  stiff  job,  and  now  I  see  how 
heavy  is  the  load  which  it  has  to  carry.  Step  care- 
fully into  this,"  he  continued,  "  and  make  a  careful 
note  of  the  way  we  are  going.  I  think  we  must 
be  about  a  hundred  feet  below  the  level  of  the 
earth;  just  gauge  it  roughly  as  we  go  up.  Here  we 

go-" 

He  pressed  a  button  and  up  went  the  lift.  They 
passed  out  of  the  little  mine  chamber,  carefully 


286  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

propping  back  the  swing  door,  and  made  their 
way  along  the  corridor. 

"  This  looks  like  an  apartment,"  said  T.  B.,  as 
he  stopped  before  a  red-painted  steel  door  in  one  of 
the  walls.  He  pressed  it  gently,  but  it  did  not 
yield.  He  made  a  further  examination,  but  there 
was  no  keyhole  visible. 

"  This  is  either  worked  by  a  hidden  spring  or  it 
does  not  work  at  all,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  If  it  is  a  spring,"  said  Ela,  "  I  will  find  it." 

His  sensitive  hands  went  up  and  down  the  sur- 
face of  the  door  and  presently  they  stopped. 

"  There  is  something  which  is  little  larger  than  a 
pin  hole,"  he  said.  He  took  from  his  pocket  a 
general  utility  knife  and  slipped  out  a  thin  steel 
needle.  "  Pipe  cleaners  may  be  very  useful,"  he 
said,  and  pressed  the  long  slender  bodkin  into  the 
aperture.  Instantly,  and  without  sound,  the  door 
opened. 

T.  B.  was  the  first  to  go  in,  revolver  in  hand.  He 
found  himself  in  a  room  which,  even  if  it  were  a 
prison,  was  a  well-disguised  prison.  The  walls 
were  hung  with  costly  tapestry,  the  carpet  under 
foot  was  thick  and  velvety  and  the  furniture  which 
garnished  the  room  was  of  a  most  costly  and  luxuri- 
ous description. 

"  Lady  Constance ! "  gasped  T.  B.  in  surprise. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  287 

A  woman  who  was  sitting  in  a  chair  near  the 
reading  lamp  rose  quickly  and  turned  her  startled 
gaze  to  the  detective. 

"  Mr.  Smith,"  she  said,  and  ran  towards  him. 
"  Oh,  thank  God  you  have  come !  " 

She  grasped  him  by  his  two  arms;  she  was  half 
hysterical  in  that  moment  of  her  release,  and  was 
babbling  an  incoherent  string  of  words;  a  descrip- 
tion of  her  capture — her  fear — her  gratitude — all 
in  an  inextricably  confused  rush  of  half  completed 
phrases. 

"  Sit  down,  Lady  Constance,"  said  T.  B.  gently; 
"  collect  yourself  and  try  to  remember — have  you 
seen  Poltavo?  " 

"  Poltavo  ?  "  she  said,  startled  into  coherence. 
"No,  is  he  here?" 

"  He  is  somewhere  here,"  said  T.  B.  "  I  am 
seeking  for  him  now.  Will  you  stay  here  or  will 
you  come  with  us?" 

"  I  would  rather  come  with  you,"  she  said  with  a 
shiver. 

They  passed  through  the  door  together. 

"  Do  all  these  doors  open  upon  rooms  similar  to 
this?"  asked  T.  B. 

"  I  believe  there  are  a  number  of  underground 
cells,"  she  answered  in  a  whisper,  "  but  the  prin- 
cipal one  is  that  which  is  near."  She  pointed  to  a 


288  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

red-painted  door  some  twenty  paces  away  from  the 
one  from  which  they  were  emerging.  There  was 
another  pause  whilst  Ela  repeated  his  examination 
of  the  door. 

Apparently  they  all  worked  on  the  pick  system, 
a  method  which  medieval  conspirators  favoured, 
and  which  the  Italian  workmen  probably  imported 
from  the  land  of  their  birth;  a  land  which  has 
given  the  world  the  Borgias  and  the  Medicis  and 
the  Visconti. 

"  Stay  here,"  said  T.  B.  in  a  low  voice,  and  Lady 
Constance  shrank  back  against  the  wall. 

Ela  pressed  in  his  little  needle  and  again  the 
result  was  satisfactory.  The  door  opened  slowly 
and  T.  B.  stepped  in. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  trying  to  understand  all 
that  the  terrible  scene  signified.  The  limp  body  on 
the  floor;  the  two  remorseless  men  standing 
close  by;  Farrington  with  folded  arms  and  his  eye 
glowering  down  upon  the  dead  man  at  his  feet. 
Fall  at  the  switchboard. 

Then  T.  B.'s  revolver  rose  swiftly. 

"  Hands  up !  "  he  said. 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when 
the  room  was  plunged  in  darkness,  his  companion 
was  flung  violently  backward  as  the  electrical  con- 
trol came  into  operation  and  the  door  slammed  in 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  289 

Ela's  face.  He  pressed  it  without  avail.  He 
brought  to  his  aid  the  little  needle,  but  this  time 
the  lock  would  not  move. 

Ela's  face  went  chalk  white. 

"My  God!"  he  gasped,  "they've  got  T.  B.!" 

He  stood  for  a  moment  in  indecision.  He  had 
visualized  the  scene  and  knew  what  fate  would 
befall  his  chief. 

"  Back  to  the  gallery,"  he  said  harshly,  and  led 
the  way,  holding  the  woman's  arm  in  support.  He 
found  his  way  without  difficulty  to  the  lift,  sprang 
into  it,  after  Lady  Constance,  and  pressed  the 
button. .  .  .  Now  they  were  speeding  along  the 
sparking  rail  .  .  .  now  they  were  in  the  lift  rising 
swiftly  to  the  room  in  Moor  Cottage.  T.  B.'s  car 
was  outside. 

"  You  had  better  come  with  me,"  said  Ela 
quickly. 

Lady  Constance  jumped  into  the  car  after 
him. 

"To  the  Secret  House,"  said  Ela  to  the 
chauffeur,  and  as  the  car  drove  forward  he  turned 
to  the  woman  at  his  side. 

"  I  will  put  you  amongst  your  friends  in  a  few 
moments,"  he  said ;  "  at  present  I  dare  not  risk  the 
loss  of  a  second." 

"But  what  will  they  do?" 


290  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  I  pretty  well  know  what  they  will  do,"  said 
Ela  grimly.  "  Farrington  is  playing  his  last  hand, 
and  T.  B.  Smith  is  to  be  his  last  victim." 

In  the  darkness  of  the  underground  chamber 
T.  B.  faced  his  enemies,  striving  to  pierce  the 
gloom,  his  finger  in  position  upon  the  delicate  trig- 
ger of  his  automatic  pistol. 

"Do  not  move,"  he  said  softly;  "I  will  shoot 
without  any  hesitation." 

"  There  is  no  need  to  shoot,"  said  the  suave 
voice  of  the  doctor;  "the  lights  went  out,  quite 
by  accident,  I  assure  you,  and  you  and  your  friends 
have  no  need  to  fear." 

T.  B.  groped  his  way  along  the  wall,  his  revolver 
extended.  In  the  gloom  he  felt  rather  than  saw 
the  bulky  figure  of  the  doctor  and  reached  out  his 
hand  gingerly. 

Then  something  touched  the  outstretched  palm, 
something  that  in  ordinary  circumstances  might 
have  felt  like  the  rough  points  of  a  bass  broom. 
T.  B.  was  flung  violently  backwards  and  fell  heay- 
ily  to  the  ground. 

"  Get  him  into  the  chair  quick,"  he  heard  Far- 
rington's  voice  say.  "  That  was  a  good  idea  of 
yours,  doctor." 

"  Just  a  sprayed  wire,"   said  Dr.   Fall  compla- 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  291 

cently;  "it  is  a  pretty  useful  check  upon  a  man. 
You  took  a  wonderful  assistant  when  you  pressed 
electricity  to  your  aid,  Farrington." 

The  lights  were  all  on  now,  and  T.  B.  was  being 
strapped  to  the  chair.  He  had  recovered  from  the 
shock,  but  he  had  recovered  too  late.  In  the  in- 
terval of  his  unconsciousness  the  body  of  Poltavo 
had  been  removed  out  of  his  sight.  They  were 
doing  to  him  all  that  they  had  done  to  Poltavo. 
He  felt  the  electrodes  at  his  calf  and  on  his  wrists 
and  clenched  his  teeth,  for  he  knew  in  what  desper- 
ate strait  he  was. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Smith,"  said  Farrington  pleasantly, 
"  I  am  afraid  you  have  got  yourself  into  rather  a 
mess.  Where  is  the  other  man?  "  he  asked  quickly. 
He  looked  at  Fall,  and  the  doctor  returned  his  gaze. 

"  I  forgot  the  other  man,"  said  Fall  slowly;  "in 
the  corridor  outside."  He  went  to  the  invisible 
door  and  it  opened  at  his  touch.  He  was  out  of 
the  room  a  few  minutes,  and  returned  looking  old 
and  drawn. 

"  He  has  got  away,"  he  said ;  "  the  woman  has 
gone  too." 

Farrington  nodded. 

"What  does  he  matter?"  he  asked  roughly; 
"  they  know  as  much  as  they  are  likely  to  know. 
Put  the  control  on  the  door." 


292  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

Fall  turned  over  a  switch  and  the  other  renewed 
his  attention  to  T.  B. 

'  You  know  exactly  how  you  are  situated,  Mr. 
Smith,"  said  Farrington,  "  and  now  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  exactly  how  you  may  escape  from  your 
position." 

"  I  shall  be  interested  to  learn,"  said  T.  B.  coolly, 
"  but  I  warn  you  before  you  tell  me  that  if  my  es- 
cape is  contingent  upon  your  own,  then  I  am  afraid 
I  am  doomed  to  dissolution." 

The  other  nodded. 

"  As  you  surmise,"  he  said,  "  your  escape  is 
indeed  contingent  upon  mine  and  that  of  my  friends. 
My  terms  to  you  are  that  you  shall  pass  me  out  of 
England.  I  know  you  are  going  to  tell  me  that 
you  have  not  the  power,  but  I  am  as  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  extraordinary  privileges  of  your 
department  as  you  are.  I  know  that  you  can  take 
me  out  of  the  Secret  House  and  land  me  in  Calais 
to-morrow  morning,  and  there  is  not  one  man 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  England  who 
will  say  you  nay.  I  offer  you  your  life  on  condi- 
tion that  you  do  this,  otherwise " 

"  Otherwise  ?"  asked  T.  B. 

"  Otherwise  I  shall  kill  you,"  said  Farrington 
briefly,  "  just  as  I  killed  Poltavo.  You  are  the 
worst  enemy  I  have  and  the  most  dangerous.  I 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  293 

have  always  marked  you  down  as  one  whose  atten- 
tion was  to  be  avoided,  and  I  shall  probably  kill 
you  with  less  compunction  because  I  know  that  but 
for  you  I  should  not  have  been  forced  to  live  this 
mad  dog's  life  that  has  been  mine  for  the  past  few 
months.  You  will  be  interested,  Mr.  Smith,  to 
learn  that  you  nearly  had  me  once.  You  see  the 
whole  wing  of  the  house  in  which  Mr.  Moole  lies," 
he  smiled,  "  works  on  the  principle  of  a  huge 
elevator.  The  secret  of  the  Secret  House  is  really 
the  secret  of  perfectly  arranged  lifts;  that  is  to 
say,"  he  went  on,  "  I  can  take  my  room  to  the  first 
floor  and  I  can  transport  it  to  the  fourth  floor  with 
greater  ease  than  you  can  carry  a  chair  from  a 
basement  to  an  attic," 

"  I  guessed  that  much,"  said  T.  B.  "  Do  you 
realize  that  you  might  have  made  a  fortune  as  a 
practical  electrician  ?  " 

Farrington  smiled. 

"  I  very  much  doubt  it,"  he  said  coolly ;  "  but 
my  career  and  my  wasted  opportunities  are  of  less 
interest  to  me  at  the  moment  than  my  future  and 
yours.  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

T.  B.  smiled. 

"  I  am  going  to  do  nothing,"  he  said  cheerfully, 
"  unless  it  be  that  I  am  going  to  die,  for  I  can 
imagine  no  circumstance  or  danger  that  threatens 


294  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

me  or  those  I  love  best  which  would  induce  me  to 
loose  upon  the  world  such  dangerous  criminals  as 
yourself  and  your  fellow-murderers.  Your  time 
has  come,  Farrington.  Whether  my  time  comes  a 
little  sooner  or  later  does  not  alter  the  fact  that 
you  are  within  a  month  of  your  own  death,  whether 
you  kill  me  or  whether  you  let  me  go." 

"  You  are  a  bold  man  to  tell  me  that,"  said  Far- 
rington between  his  teeth. 

T.  B.  saw  from  a  glance  at  the  blanched  faces  of 
the  men  that  his  words  had  struck  home. 

"  If  you  imagine  you  can  escape,"  T.  B.  went 
on  unconcernedly,  "  why,  I  think  you  are  wasting 
valuable  time  which  might  be  better  utilized,  for 
every  moment  of  delay  is  a  moment  nearer  to  the 
gallows  for  both  of  you." 

"  My  friend,  you  are  urging  your  own  death," 
said  Fall. 

"  As  to  that,"  said  T.  B.,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
"  I  have  no  means  of  foretelling,  because  I  cannot 
look  into  the  future  any  more  than  you,  and  if  it  is 
the  will  of  Providence  that  I  should  die  in  the  exe- 
cution of  my  duty,  I  am  as  content  to  do  so  as  any 
soldier  upon  the  battle-field,  for  it  seems  to  me,"  he 
continued  half  to  himself,  "  that  the  arrayed  enemies 
of  society  are  more  terrible,  more  formidable,  and 
more  dangerous  than  the  massed  enemies  that  a 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  295 

soldier  is  called  upon  to  confront.  They  are  only 
enemies  for  a  period;  for  a  time  of  madness  which 
is  called  '  war  ' ;  but  you  in  your  lives  are  enemies 
to  society  for  all  time." 

Fall  exchanged  glances  with  his  superior,  and 
Farrington  nodded. 

The  doctor  leant  down  and  picked  up  the  leather 
helmet,  and  placed  it  with  the  same  tender  care 
that  he  had  displayed  before  over  the  head  of  his 
previous  victim. 

"  I  give  you  three  minutes  to  decide,"  said  Far- 
rington. 

"  You  are  wasting  three  minutes,"  said  the 
muffled  voice  of  T.  B.  from  under  the  helmet. 

Nevertheless  Farrington  took  out  his  watch  and 
held  it  in  his  tmshaking  palm;  for  the  space  of  a 
hundred  and  eighty  seconds  there  was  no  sound  in 
the  room  save  the  loud  ticking  of  the  watch. 

At  the  end  of  that  time  he  replaced  it  in  his 
pocket. 

"  Will  you  agree  to  do  as  I  ask  ?  "  he  said. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply  with  undiminished  vig- 
our. 

"  Let  him  have  it,"  said  Farrington  savagely. 

Dr.  Fall  put  up  his  hand  to  the  switch,  and  as  he. 
did  so  the  lights  flickered  for  a  moment  and  slowly 
their  brilliancy  diminished. 


296  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  Quick,"  said  Farrington,  and  the  doctor 
brought  the  switch  over  just  as  the  lights  went  out. 

T.  B.  felt  a  sharp  burning  sensation  that  thrilled 
his  whole  being  and  then  lost  consciousness. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THERE  was  a  group  of  police  officers  about 
the  gates  of  the  Secret  House  as  the  car 
bearing  Ela  and  the  woman  came  flying  up. 

The  detective  leapt  out. 

"  They  have  taken  T.  B.,"  he  said.  He  addressed 
a  divisional  inspector,  who  was  in  charge  of  the 
corps. 

"  Close  up  the  cordon,"  he  went  on,  "  and  all 
men  who  are  armed  follow  me." 

He  raced  up  the  garden  path,  but  it  was  not 
toward  the  Secret  House  that  he  directed  his  steps; 
he  made  a  detour  through  a  little  plantation  to  the 
power  house. 

A  man  stood  at  the  door,  a  grimy-faced  foreign 
workman  who  scowled  at  the  intruders.  He 
tried  to  pull  the  sliding  doors  to  their  place,  but  Ela 
caught  the  blue-coated  man  under  the  jaw  and 
sent  him  sprawling  into  the  interior. 

297 


298  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

In  an  instant  the  detective  was  inside,  confront- 
ing more  scowling  workmen.  A  tall,  good-looking 
man  of  middle  age,  evidently  a  decent  artisan,  was 
in  control,  and  he  came  forward,  a  spanner  in  his 
hand,  to  repel  the  intruders. 

But  the  pistol  Ela  carried  was  eloquent  of  his 
earnestness. 

"  Stand  back,"  he  said.  "  Are  you  in 
charge?  " 

The  detective  spoke  Italian  fluently. 

"What  does  this  mean,  signer?"  asked  the 
foreman. 

"  It  means  that  I  give  you  three  minutes  to  stop 
the  dynamo." 

"  But  that  is  impossible,"  said  the  other. 
"  I  cannot  stop  the  dynamo ;  it  is  against  all 
orders." 

"  Stop  that  dynamo,"  hissed  Ela  between  his 
teeth.  "  Stop  it  at  once,  or  you  are  a  dead 
man." 

The  man  hesitated,  then  walked  to  the  great 
switchboard,  brilliant  with  a  score  of  lights. 

"  I  will  not  do  it,"  he  said  sulkily.  "  There  is 
the  signal;  give  it  yourself." 

A  little  red  lamp  suddenly  glowed  on  the  marble 
switchboard. 

"What  is  that?"  asked  Ela. 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  299 

"  That  is  a  signal  from  the  lower  rooms,"  said 
the  man  sullenly;  "they  want  more  power." 

Ela  turned  on  the  man  with  a  snarl,  raised  his 
pistol  and  there  was  murder  in  his  eyes. 

"  Mercy !  "  gasped  the  Italian,  and  putting  out 
his  hand  he  grasped  a  long  red  switch  marked 
'  Danger '  and  pulled  it  over.  Instantly  all  the 
lights  in  the  power  house  went  dim,  and  the  great 
whirling  wheels  slowed  down  and  stopped.  Only 
the  light  of  day  illuminated  the  power  house.  Ela, 
standing  on  the  controlling  platform,  wiped  his 
perspiring  face  with  the  back  of  a  hand  which  was 
shaking  as  though  with  ague. 

"I  wonder  if  I  was  in  time?"  he  muttered. 

The  big  machinery  hall  was  now  alive  with  de- 
tectives. 

"  Take  charge  of  every  man,"  Ela  ordered; 
"see  that  nobody  touches  any  of  these  switches. 
Arrest  stokers  and  keep  them  apart.  Now  you," 
he  said,  addressing  the  foreman  in  Italian,  "  you 
seem  a  decent  fellow,  and  I  am  going  to  give  you  a 
chance  of  earning  not  only  your  freedom,  but  a 
substantial  reward.  I  am  a  police  officer  and  I 
have  come  to  make  an  inspection  of  this  house. 
You  spoke  of  the  lower  rooms — do  you  know  the 
way  there?  " 

The  man  hesitated. 


300  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

"  The  lift  cannot  work,  signer,"  he  said,  with  a 
shrug  of  his  shoulders,  "  now  that  the  electric  cur- 
rent is  stopped." 

"  Is  there  no  other  way  ?  " 

Again  the  man  hesitated. 

"  There  are  stairs,  signer,"  he  stammered  after 
a  while,  then  continued  rapidly:  "  If  this  is  a  crime 
and  Signor  Moole  is  an  anarchist,  I  know  nothing 
of  it,  I  swear  to  you  by  the  Virgin.  I  am  an  hon- 
est man  from  Padua,  and  I  have  no  knowledge  of 
such  things  as  your  Excellency  speaks  about." 

Ela  nodded. 

"  I  am  willing  to  believe  that,"  he  said  in  a 
milder  tone.  "  Now,  my  friend,  you  shall  undo  a 
great  deal  of  mischief  that  has  been  done  by  show- 
ing me  the  way  to  the  underground  rooms." 

"  I  am  at  your  service,"  said  the  man  helplessly. 
"  I  call  all  men  to  witness  that  I  have  done  my  best 
to  carry  out  the  instructions  which  the  padrone  has 
given  me." 

He  led  the  way  out  of  the  power  house  through 
a  door  which  led  to  a  large  stretch  of  private  gar- 
den behind  the  main  building,  across  a  well-kept 
lawn  to  an  area  basement  which  ran  the  whole 
length  of  the  house. 

In  this,  at  the  far  end,  was  a  door,  and  the  man 


THE  SECRET  HOUSE  301 

opened  it  with  a  key  upon  a  bunch  which  he  took 
from  his  pocket.  They  had  to  pass  through  two 
more  doors  before  they  came  to  the  spiral  stair- 
case which  led  down  into  the  gloomy  depths  be- 
neath the  Secret  House. 

To  Ela's  surprise  they  were  illuminated  and  he 
feared  that  against  his  orders  the  dynamo  had  been 
restarted,  but  the  man  reassured  him. 

"  They  are  from  the  storage  batteries,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  sufficient  to  afford  light  all  over  the 
house,  but  not  enough  to  give  power." 

The  steps  seemed  never  ending.  Ela  counted 
eighty-seven  before  at  last  they  came  to  a  landing 
from  which  one  door  opened.  The  detective 
noticed  that  the  man  employed  the  same  method 
of  entering  here  as  he  himself  had  done.  A  bodkin 
slipped  into  an  almost  invisible  hole  produced  the 
mechanical  unsealing  of  this  doorway. 

Ela  stepped  through  the  open  door.  Two  lights 
burned  dimly;  he  saw  the  strapped  figure  in  the 
chair  and  his  heart  sank.  He  went  forward  at  a 
run  and  Farrington  was  the  first  to  hear 
him. 

The  big  man  turned,  a  revolver  in  his  hand. 
There  was  a  quick  deafening  report,  and  another, 
and  a  third.  Ela  stood  up  unmoved,  unharmed, 


302  THE  SECRET  HOUSE 

but  Farrington,  rocking  as  he  staggered  to  the  table, 
slid  to  the  ground  with  a  bullet  through  his 
heart. 

"  Take  that  man,"  said  Ela,  and  in  an  instant 
Fall  was  handcuffed  and  secure. 

Then  Ela  heard  a  silent  sneeze  and  through  the 
smoke  from  the  revolver  shots  the  voice  of  T.  B. 
Smith,  saying:  "A  pity  it  takes  such  ill-smelling 
powder  to  send  our  clever  friend  on  his  long 
journey." 


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